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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

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You're My Home

Summary: You and Javi have both had one of those weeks where no matter how hard you try, nothing seems to go right. It only takes so long before something stupid makes the both of you snap. When Javi confesses to you what's been putting him on edge, you find a way to make it up to each other.

Word Count: 4.9K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), established relationship, unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap), vaginal fingering, creampie, angst, PTSD (poor Javi has a panic attack but you help him through it), hurt/comfort, makeup sex (!!!!), bad communication but apologizing/forgiving each other, mentions of food/eating, reader wears Javi's shirt and is carried by Javi, fluff fluff fluff bc you two are so in love with each other it hurts

This can be read as a stand alone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

A/N: I don't know what's been in the water that has me so compelled to make something angsty, but here we are!! Once I started writing this I quite literally could not stop, and it turned out to be one of the most intimate things I have ever written 😭🥺 I love these two sm

It had been a week.

A long fucking week.

One of those weeks where it felt like no matter how hard you tried, everything just felt… off. You had just started volunteering to run the Alma Pierce Elementary School drama club, which had you staying an extra hour and a half after school every Monday and Wednesday, on top of preparing for Parent-Teacher Conferences next week. You loved your group of students this year, but holy shit, were they chatty, and the past few days you felt like you might as well have put a cardboard cutout of yourself at the front of the room and left, because your class had absolutely zero interest in paying attention to you. To top it off, you could tell that Javi was having a bad week too. You hadn’t seen much of each other the past few days, with you working late and prepping for conferences, and Javi working on a new project the department had dropped in his lap without notice. Even though you lived in the same apartment, you had felt like strangers this week. Sure, you’d had off days before, but the two of you were always open and honest with each other, seeking comfort and safety in the other's presence, knowing that you were both there for one another, through good times, and bad.

But this week was not like those “off” days. Something about it had felt tense, cold, even. You hated it. You hated every second of it. The two of you were never like this. Javi was your best friend, yet somehow, sitting in the same room, you still felt a million miles apart. Every interaction that you’d had left a worse taste in your mouth than the last- snapping at each other over stupid things like unclosed containers in the fridge or leaving towels on the bathroom floor. The worst was that Javi just could not seem to let things go, his presence feeling overbearing, almost bossy, with everything that you did.

“You left the iron on while you were getting ready, you’re gonna burn down the fucking aparment.”

“Double check the locks on the door, you forgot this morning.”

“If you don’t fix the bath mat before you get in the shower, you’re gonna break your goddamn head open.”

Even worse than that, when you tried to politely remind Javi about something, or do something helpful for him, he had been a complete asshole to you.

“Yes, I can remember to clean it up after I’m done, I’m not fucking 8 years old.”

“Jesus, I know we need more coffee creamer, you put it on the grocery list and reminded me twice.”

“I can put away my own laundry, just let me do it.”

It felt like he was breathing down your neck, the fly in your ear that just wouldn’t go away, and it made you want to scream. You had considered yourself to be a pretty patient person- working with kids, you had to be, but this week, Javier Peña seemed to be testing every ounce of patience you had left in your body, and you were about to run out.

Your Friday night routine with Javi normally consisted of the 3 same things every week

Javi picking up pizza from place down the street on the way home from work

Eating the pizza and watching a movie

Pausing said movie to have sex, finish watching the movie, and then fall asleep on the couch.

On this particular Friday, you had a very strong suspicion that none of those 3 things would be happening tonight. When you came home, you practically collapsed from exhaustion the moment you got through the door. Dropping your bag and kicking off your shoes, you crawled your way to the couch, completely collapsing in its cushions, taking a few deep breaths to try and regain your composure from the hellish day it had been. You finally mustered up enough strength to get up and change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable before sulking around the apartment, making yourself finish chores that had seemed to go neglected all week. Javi was normally home a half hour after you, but as you looked up at the clock, he was 20 minutes later than usual. It wasn’t long before another hour had gone by, leaving you absolutely starving, unable to wait for the dinner Javi may or may not be bringing home. You scavenged through your fridge and pantry, pulling out sauce and spaghetti to make yourself pasta to at least tide you over.

When Javi got home two hours past his normal arrival, you were shocked by the smell of pizza that filled your apartment as he walked through the door. You were even more shocked by the reaction he had to seeing the pot of noodles you had left out on the stove while you sat at the kitchen table to finish report cards to hand out at conferences.

“Did you already fucking eat?” His tone was sharp and brash as he dropped the pizza box on the kitchen counter.

“Well you’re home two hours later than normal, Javi. What was I supposed to do? Not eat? I’m more than capable of fending for myself if you’re not here with pizza.” You could feel pressure in your stomach rising, clenching your fists to try and hold in the last bit of patience you had.

“That’s not the fucking point. You know I always get pizza for us on Friday, you know I’m bringing you dinner, I can’t help that things have been a shit show at work and I’m still trying to at least do something to take care of you.”

Take care of you? Nuh, uh. That was the last straw.

You stood up out of your chair, palms flat on the table as you glared at Javi. “Take care of me? Seriously, Javi? Like I’m some sort of helpless little puppy that can’t fend for themself? I am more than fucking capeable of taking care of myself, and this whole week you have been acting like I am literally incapable of doing anything in this house. Listen, I can tell things have been shitty for you at work, and this week has sucked for me too, but every time I try to go do something nice for you, something to actually help take care of you? You’re already halfway down my goddamn throat, telling me to stop or fix whatever it is I’m doing.” Your heart was racing, blood pumping through your veins so intensely, you could feel your hands begin to shake.

“Because it’s my fucking job to take care of you!” He growled, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as you stood with your hands on your hips, laughing at him in the least humorous way possible.

“Your job? Your fucking job? You don’t think I’m capable of taking care of myself? That’s fucking great. So you can take care of me, but I can’t take care of you? Yeah, that makes sense. Un-fucking-believeable. I don’t know what the fuck has been going on with you this past week, but I can’t do this right now. I’m going on a fucking run.” You stormed to the door, throwing on your shoes as you white knuckled your keys in your grasp.

“You fucking hate running!” Javi yelled, clenching his jaw before burying his hands in his face.

“I don’t fucking care!” You grunted back, deliberately slamming the door behind you as you sauntered down the stairs of your apartment to the parking lot. Javi was right, there was no physical activity you hated more than running. You weren’t really sure what your plan was, just that you couldn’t stand there fighting with Javi anymore. You could feel the adrenaline flowing through you, enough to make you pick up your feet and actually begin sprinting down the sidewalk. You just kept running. Running until you could feel your sides begin to hurt, until your eyes began to sting from the tears welling behind them, until your chest felt like it was collapsing in on you, making you stop in the middle of the cement pathway in a full on breakdown. You could barely catch your breath, sobbing, as your hands dropped to your knees, your body trembling with each pathetic whimper.

What the fuck were you doing? Why was Javi being like this? Why were you being like this? Why won’t he just talk to you? Why can you just not make things right? Why was the one person you loved more than anything in the world the one who was making you feel like you’d been run over by a semi-truck?

Wiping your tears and snot with your sleeve, you took a deep breath and turned around to head home, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was causing you to both suffer through the worst week ever.

“Javi?” You peeked into the apartment, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” He answered, his voice still sharp, making you wince as you walked over to the couch where he sat.

“Javi… Javi what’s going on? I can’t do this anymore. If I did something to make you mad, I’m sorry, I just-”

“Fucking work has just been a shit show, okay?” He snapped, cutting off your sentence. “I’m going to bed, I’m fucking exhausted.” He sighed as he got up, storming his way down the hallway, leaving you there alone on the couch, your bottom lip quivering as the tears began to stream down your face again, leaving you in a silent, sobbing heap on the couch.

You waited a while before getting into bed with Javi, entering your bedroom in its already dark state to avoid crossing paths while the two of you finished your nighttime routines. You crawled into your comforter, eyes still red and puffy as you lay back to back with Javi, without so much as even a good night, let alone, an “I love you.”

You could feel yourself stirring, tossing and turning in your sleep as you rolled over, outstretching your arm to an unfamiliarly empty space. You turned over to face Javi, now finding yourself wide awake at the fact that he wasn’t there next to you. Immediately, you shot up, calling out his name as you got out of bed, wondering where the hell he was. As you made your way into the hallway, you whispered his name once more before hearing the sounds of heavy, labored breathing coming from the living room. You rushed in, finding Javi sitting on the floor, his hand grasping at his chest with a look of pure panic on his face.

“I feel like… Fuck, I feel like I can’t breathe. My heart is beating so fast.” He whimpered between his shaky breathing and sobs. “I just- I just kept seeing it over and over again in my head and I woke up and it still wouldn’t go away. Every when I wake up, it’s like it’s fucking haunting me. I feel like something’s crushing my chest. Baby, what’s happening?” He gasped as he looked up at you, helpless and desperate.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You knew exactly what was happening.

Immediately, you climbed into his lap, wrapping yourself around him as tightly as possible, stretching your arms as widely as you could around the broadness of his body. You tried to slow your breathing down, taking long inhales and exhales as you held him. “Just breathe, baby. It’s okay. You’re safe, I promise. I’m here. Deep breaths, okay?”

“Osita, I can’t- Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” His voice was trembling, each word low and labored as he grasped at the back of his shirt you had draped over your back.

“I know, baby. I know. I know it’s scary. I promise that you’re safe. I’m here, okay? Just breathe. In and out. I’m not leaving. You’re safe with me, I promise it will be okay.” Even though your heart was shattering, you did everything you could to be the calm in his storm, whispering your reassurances in your soft, sweet voice. Slowly but surely, you could feel the intensity of his breaths lessen, the rising and falling of his chest easing as he grasped tighter at your shirt, pulling you closer to him.

“It’s okay, Javi. It’s okay. Listen, I’m gonna ask you to do something, alright? It’s gonna sound stupid but it’s gonna help.” You could feel him nod against your chest, his sobs finally beginning to slow. “Can you open your eyes and tell me 5 things you see?” You felt him lift his head, looking up at you, his face wet and red as his deep brown eyes locked with yours.

“Fuck, um, the- the wall, the carpet, the uh, um, the couch, shit, the TV, you. I can see you.”

“Okay, perfect. What about 4 things you can touch, like feel in your hands?” You smiled gently at him as his breathing was now at a near normal rate. He raised up his arm, wiping his damp face with his palm.

“My fucking wet face.” The both of you smirked, bringing you relief that Javi was already half laughing. “The carpet, my shirt, that always looks better on you than it does on me. Fuck, I can feel your skin, it’s always so soft. I love feeling it.” He ran one of his hands along the bare skin of your thigh, his fingers grasping at your flesh.

“You’re doing great, baby. How about 3 things you can hear?”

“Um, the cars outside, the fan, I could feel your heartbeat when I was on your chest.” He pressed his head back against you, raking your fingers through the ends of his damp curls, sticking to his forehead from his panicked sweat.

Okay, almost done. What about 2 things you can smell?” You asked, running your fingers along the nape of his neck.

“Your shirt smells like laundry. No matter how hard I try it just always smells better when you do it. And your shampoo. It always smells so sweet and fruity, it’s my favorite.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hand gently tugging at the ends of your hair, twisting his fingers through it.

“Okay, last one. Something you can taste.” He lifted his head, looking at you as he slid the hand in your hair to cradle your jaw, cupping your face.

“You.” He rasped, his lips barely pressing against yours, feeling the hot breaths between your mouths as they met. He pulled back, pausing for a moment before he spoke. “Baby…I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. This week has been all my fault. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this and I was scared. I was so fucking scared.”

“Javi, it’s okay. Please, I just want to be here for you. You know you can tell me anything, okay? I love you, Javi. I love you more than anything. I know it hurts to talk about the things that scare you the most, but it’s even scarier watching the person you love hurt so badly and not knowing what to do to help them. I don’t care what it is, baby. There’s nothing you can tell me that’s gonna scare me away.” The look on his face nearly broke you. You could tell he was so hurt. Hurt by whatever had been haunting him. Hurt by the fact he wasn’t okay. Hurt by the fact that he had hurt you.

“The project I’ve been working on this week… It all started because of how bad things are getting across the border in Mexico. A mom was out with her kids and they were all shot in a hit and run accident between two people making a drug trade. It was only an hour from here. I watched so many people do so many fucked up things that I thought I would never have to worry about again once I got home. And even if I did, I was going to be the only person I needed to worry about. But I couldn’t stop imagining that mom with her kids was you. You and our future kids. Every night since that fucking case file got set on my desk, I wake up to the same fucking nightmare of me running down the street, trying to grab you, push you, do anything to get you out of the way, but every fucking night I’m never fast enough. All I can do is watch as that bullet goes through you and you fall to the ground. I can’t let it happen to you. What if something goes wrong and I can’t protect you? I couldn’t fucking live with myself. I just want to keep you safe Osita. I’m so sorry. I love you too much to lose you.”

Fuck.

It wasn’t long before you were crying with him, squeezing him tightly once again, pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. That’s what had been going on. That’s why he had been so overbearing. That’s why he hadn’t been the Javi that you’d known and loved this week. On the night he’d told you the worst of the things he had seen and done away in Colombia, you had seen how his eyes had filled with regret, remorse, even anger. But this was different. Never once in the time that you’d known him had you seen Javi so scared. The look in his eyes when you found him sitting on the floor was one of pure terror. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like, waking up night after night to the image of Javi slipping away, let alone coming to grips with the reality that you couldn’t even fathom, and he knew far too well. Javi knew you had no problem sticking up for yourself. You were strong, tough, and fiercely independent- those were all things he loved so much about you. But those things weren’t enough to protect you from the dangers that haunted his past, or the terrifying reality of the present.

Through the silent cries of your sobs, you felt Javi’s hand under your chin, lifting your head to force your eyes to meet. “Osita, I’m so sorry. Pease, please forgive me. I’ve been so lost in my own world this week because I’ve been so scared about what could happen to you. I had my head so far up my own ass that I thought I was doing everything I could to try and keep you safe in any way that I could, and instead I’ve just been a fucking dick to the person I care about more than anything in the world. I don’t wanna fight anymore, I fucking hate it. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You draped your arms around his neck, your fingers tracing small, gentle circles along his back as you stared back at him. “I didn’t know, Javi. I didn’t know you were so scared. I’m so sorry. I don’t wanna fight anymore either. This has been the shittiest week. I missed you. I missed my best friend.” He pressed his hand against the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he hugged you tightly. “You just have to promise me something, okay?”

“Anything. Anything, baby.”

“You have to promise me that you can’t keep all of this in. You have to promise me you’ll talk to someone about it. Me, your dad, people at work, Steve, a therapist, someone. There are so many people who care so much about you who just wanna help. You’re the strongest person I know, Javi, but it’s okay to not be strong sometimes.” He let out a long, shaky breath, darting his eyes down at the ground, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. “You promise me?” You asked again, grabbing his face in your hands, swiping your thumb along his wet cheeks.

“I promise.”

In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how sorry you were for the way you had acted. You found yourself face to face, eyes closing as your mouths came together in the most gentle, tender kiss. But even as your parted lips barely pressed against one another, you could practically feel how desperate you both were.

“I love you.”

Even though you whispered it against the soft, unshaven stubble of Javi’s cheek, it feels like you’re screaming it, determined to make sure he hears those 3 words as they fall from your lips, that he knows how much you mean each one, every second of every hour of every day. You can feel the heat in your chest as his hands grasp around the small of your back, pulling you closer as your bodies melt together, the tension straining in your muscles dissipating with each second he pulls you closer.

“I love you too.”

It felt like suddenly, all was right with the world again. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how desperately he craved you, too. The tingle built at the base of your spine as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, his hand creeping further up your belly, pressing against the curves of your sides. You raised your arms as his fists balled up the worn fabric, carefully lifting it over your head as his hot breath ran against your neck, leaving gentle, tender kisses along your newly exposed skin. Your hands pressed against his hips, tugging at the waistband of his cotton sleep shorts as he locked his arms under your legs, bringing you both to stand as you wrapped your legs around the small of his back, the skin of your bare chests brushing against each other as he carried you toward the bedroom. Each kiss of your parted lips was like a plea, begging that the other would forgive you, that despite the way you had treated each other there was no one in the world that you loved more, that you would rather be with right here, right now.

Crossing the threshold to the bedroom, Javi leaned his body over the mattress, carefully placing you down in the warm, tangled sheets of your bed that had felt so cold and harsh only a few hours ago. You looked up at Javi standing at the end of the bed as he nudged his shorts off of his hips, leaving him exposed, the clothes now pooling around his ankles. Crawling over you, he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, the only thing left on your body after your shirt had been left behind in the living room. You lifted your hips, helping him shuffle the fabric down your legs as he ran his hands along the meat of your thighs. He leaned over you, the temples of your foreheads pressed against each other as his fingers danced along the skin of your bare legs, barely grazing against your entrance. You could already feel the slick of your arousal pooling under his touch, the calloused pads of his fingers ever so gently tracing up and down your folds, making you shutter.

“Javi... Please.” Your voice trembled as Javi nodded, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You gasped as you felt the thickness of his fingers heedfully pushing themselves inside you, arching your back against the bed as his thumb delicately pressed on your clit. Each thrust of his hand in and out of your heat was dragging and deliberate, the rubbing of his fingertip along your sensitive bundle of nerves making your moans muffled against his chest. Every touch of his hand made you feel better than the last, but there was something primal about the way that you needed him inside you, how you ached to feel him buried deep in heat, to feel every inch of him. “I need you. Please, I need you.” You whimpered against his skin, making him lift his head to look at you as you watched the chocolate brown of his eyes grow darker with lust. He worked in silence, removing his fingers as he stroked himself, making your cunt throb in anticipation as you felt the tip of his cock stroke along your entrance, a moan escaping from your parted lips as he guided himself inside you.

“Fuck…” He whispered, pushing himself in further, inch by inch, before bottoming out, his tip bumping against your cervix. You wrapped your legs around his back, doing anything you could to bring him closer to you, trying to melt your bodies into one and hold him so tightly you could never let him float away again. You dug your nails into his muscular back as he began to thrust in and out of you, taking his time with each stroke, as if he was savoring every sweet moment. “I love you, Osita. I love you so much, baby. Gonna make you feel good, okay? I promise.” It was like you could feel his words with each stroke, the promise that had fallen from his lips burying itself deep inside you with every rock of his hips against yours. Your bedroom was filled with the sounds of your mixed moans and skin hitting against each other. Even when no words escaped from your mouths, it was almost as if you could hear each other through the sounds between the two of you, coating your walls.

I love you.

I need you.

I’m so sorry.

His palm pressed along the sheen of your skin, snaking down your body to rub against your clit, intensifying the throbbing that you already felt growing between your legs. With each thrust of his hips, his cock pounded deeper into your heat, hitting the spot within you that had the arousal beginning to pool intensely within your belly, that creeping familiar feeling building at the base of your spine. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him.

“Javi, pleaseee. Bab-ahhhhh, I’m so close.” You felt your cunt begin to clench around his length, making him moan as each push and pull of hips became more intense, punching against your g-spot and making your writhe under his touch.

“I know you are, Hermosa. Cum for me baby, cum all over me and show me how you’re mine.”

His words make something inside you snap, making you shake and your body tense as your arms and legs tightened their grip around Javi, crying out his name as your orgasm rushed through you. His lips met yours, swallowing your moans as his pumps became frantic and sloppy, only taking a few more before he was chasing his own high. “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking perfect. Te amo más que a nada. Soy tyuo para siempre. (I love you more than anything, I’m yours, forever.). Fuck, I’m gonna- shit- I’m- ahhhhhhh” With one last push, you could feel him throbbing inside you, spilling against your walls, pumping every last drop of himself inside you as he slumped into your body, your hearts racing, chests rising and falling as one. The two of you laid there for a moment, your bodies tangled in each other, letting each of your breaths sync as you came down from your blissed out highs. Javi hissed as he turned over to pull out of you, making you whine at the loss, before rolling over to lay your head on his chest. You could feel his arm wrap around you to pull you in closer, his fingers tracing along your shoulder blade as you draped your arm across his stomach.

“I guess that’s one way to make up for this shitty week.” You giggled as Javi shook his head, joining you, the both of you glad to hear the sweet sounds of each other's laughter for the first time in much too long. “Can we never do this again? I never wanna fight like that ever again. These last few days have sucked without you.”

“Never. This was the fucking worst. Never again. I promise.” He kissed the top of your head, burying his nose in your messy curls as he held you just a little bit tighter.

“Okay.” You smiled against his warm, tanned skin before looking up at him. “You wanna know the worst part?”

“What, baby?”

“I didn’t even get to eat any of that pizza.” Javi chuckled as he shook you playfully in his grasp, making you squirm and snicker as he held you.

“There’s still some left in the fridge. Let me go get it and you can tell me all about your week, okay?” He kissed your forehead as he pushed himself out of bed, making his way to the door.

“Okay. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, I didn’t even get to tell you how I had to call Mark’s mom in the middle of math because he stuck a crayon up his nose yesterday.” The both of you snorted as Javi looked back at you.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

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velvetsupremacy · 14 days ago

Text

In My Head (Part 1)

Pairing: Irene x FEM Reader

Summary: In which Joohyun is a popular cheerleader majoring in psychology and you’re a hopeless gay who reports on Joohyun’s boyfriend’s, Minho, soccer season and you’re paired together for a class project.

Word Count: 8.9k words

Warning: Alcohol use but very brief, no smut

So sorry for the delay but here's part 1, part 2 (final part) coming soon!!

The start of junior year felt like the beginning of something big for you. You practically skipped across the campus lawn, camera bag bouncing against your hip as you soaked in the buzz of excitement that hung in the air. It wasn’t just about covering the men’s soccer team for the college news station, even though the team was expected to go all the way to the championship this year. No, it was the possibility of seeing her again - Joohyun.

“Look at you, all perked up,” Yerim teased, pulling her sunglasses down. “Excited about watching a bunch of dudes sweat it out on a field?”

“Hey, it’s for the story,” you said, pretending to sound professional but failing miserably as you grinned ear to ear. “We need a good story to start the year, and this team’s perfect for that.”

Yerim arched an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Uh-huh. And the fact that Joohyun will be bouncing around in a skirt has nothing to do with your sudden love for sports?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Yerim shot back, her smirk widening. “Just don’t drool on your camera lens.”

Yerim had a point, though. You had met her in a media law class last year, bonding over your shared major and mutual love for Ariana Grande. Since then, you'd become close friends, sharing everything from class notes to hangover remedies. Yerim had a knack for reading you like an open book, which was both a blessing and a curse.

You both reached the field, and your breath caught in your throat as your gaze zeroed in on the cheerleaders warming up on the sidelines.

Your eyes found Joohyun almost immediately, as if drawn to her like a moth to a very, very hot flame. Joohyun, with her long, silky brunette hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial, was impossible to miss. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves, catching the sunlight with every effortless toss of her head. She was short - barely 5’3”- but every inch of her was perfectly proportioned, from her slightly toned legs that peeked out from under her cheer skirt to the soft, delicate features of her face. Joohyun looked like she’d stepped out of a dream, all elegance and confidence wrapped in a cheer uniform that somehow made her both sweet and dangerously alluring at the same time.

She twirled a pom-pom, laughing at something one of her teammates said, and for a moment, you forgot how to function.

Bae Joohyun wasn’t just a cheerleader. She was practically campus royalty. A psychology major with plans to go to law school, Joohyun had a reputation for being not only drop-dead gorgeous but also frighteningly smart. She had a soothing voice that made her a favorite at the college radio station where she hosted a show once a week and probably had a fan club just for the way she said, “Good morning.”

For you, the crush had started last year in the most cliché way possible. You’d been covering a student rally, trying to capture the perfect shot of the crowd, when Joohyun had stepped up to the microphone. The crowd had quieted instantly, hanging on her every word. You focused on getting the perfect shot, but when you looked up through the lens and saw Joohyun’s face, something had clicked.

There was a passion in Joohyun’s voice, a fire that matched the intensity of her gaze. She had spoken about the importance of mental health with a conviction that was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just that Joohyun was beautiful—though she definitely was. It was that she seemed to care so deeply, to be so fully herself, that it drew you in like nothing else had.

Since then, you’d found herself “accidentally” ending up anywhere Joohyun might be, even if it was just to catch a glimpse from afar.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Yerim said, snapping a picture of the team’s star player, Choi Minho, as he jogged onto the field. “You’ve been swooning over her for, what, months now?”

“Not gonna happen,” you denied vehemently, shaking your head. “Not while she’s with Minho, and not unless I know for sure she even likes girls. Plus, someone like her going for someone like me? Yeah, right.”

Yerim snorted. “You say that like you’re not a catch. Besides, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching.”

“Yeah, like I’m the weird girl with the camera who’s always lurking in the background,” you chuckled.

“Or maybe like she’s trying not to blush every time you’re within a hundred feet,” Yerim retorted.

You would like to believe Yerim, but the idea of Joohyun returning your feelings felt about as likely as you becoming a professional soccer player overnight. Still, you couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up at the thought.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself, zooming in on Minho as he made a perfect pass. But your mind wandered back to that rally last year. Joohyun had been captivating then, and she was just as captivating now. The crush that had started in that moment had only grown, fed by every little thing you had learned about her since.

“Hey,” Yerim snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Practice is wrapping up. Let’s go get those interviews before you lose your mind.”

“Right,” you said, lowering the camera. You had a job to do—a story to tell. But as you headed toward the team, your gaze lingered on Joohyun for just a moment longer. What was it about her that made your heart do that little flip every time you saw her? It was ridiculous, really. A crush on a girl you could never be with.

And with that thought, you followed Yerim toward the team, ready to get these interviews over with…

As you wrapped up the interview with Minho, he wiped the sweat from his brow and flashed you a charming grin. The guy was a natural during interviews, confident and effortlessly likable. You thanked him for his time, making sure to capture one last shot of him before lowering your camera.

"Good luck this season," you said, trying to sound more professional and less like you’d been daydreaming about his girlfriend half the time. How unprofessional.

"Thanks," Minho replied, flashing a bright smile. "I’ll do my best not to disappoint."

As he turned to jog back to his teammates, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Joohyun walking toward the field. She moved with that same effortless grace, her hair shining under the late afternoon sun and was making a beeline for Minho, tiptoeing adorably to kiss his cheek.

Of course, you thought to yourself, trying not to make a face. They were dating. You knew this. Everyone knew this. Still, knowing it didn’t make the sight any easier to watch.

You couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. This wasn’t some romantic drama where a smile meant destiny was at play. No, this was just real life, and in real life, Joohyun didn’t even know your name.

“Come on, let’s head out,” Yerim called from a few feet away, waving her phone in the air. You nodded, following her lead.

As you both made your way off the field, a nagging thought wormed its way into your mind, the one you’d been trying to avoid all week.

Classes were starting next Monday, and with them came the embarrassing reality that you, a junior, would be sitting in Journalism 1 like a freshman.

It wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your academic journey. You’d planned to take Journalism 1 ages ago, but thanks to a mix-up in your scheduling during your first year, you’d ended up prioritizing other courses. By the time you realized the mistake, all the Journalism 1 sections were full.

So here you were, entering your junior year and still having to take an introductory class. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but the idea of sitting through lectures you probably could have passed two years ago was a little silly.

“Lost in thought again?” Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. She gave you a knowing look as you both reached the parking lot. “Let me guess, you’re freaking out about J1 again?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a shrug, trying to downplay it. “It’s just…I don’t know. I should be past all that by now.”

Yerim snorted, adjusting her sunglasses. “You’ll be fine. Besides, who cares? It’s just a class.”

“Yeah, but still,” you sighed. “It’s not exactly ideal.”

Yerim lightly slapped your shoulder, snorting off your concerns. “Don’t worry so much. You already have experience making stories for the school paper and radio. What’s an intro class with Professor Kim anyway? She loves you.”

You cracked a smile, recalling how you earned Professor Kim’s approval in Media Law and Ethics, which were two of the hardest classes within your program. “You’re right. It’s just an intro class.”

“Of course I am,” she said, holding her growling stomach. “Now, let’s go grab some food. I’m starving.”

Monday arrived with an unexpected sense of calm. You strolled across campus, your bag slung over your shoulder and a spring in your step. The weekend had been fun catching up with all your friends, and your first few classes that morning went better than expected.

But now, as you approached the door to Journalism 1, that confidence started to waver. You’d been riding high all day, but the reality of walking into a freshman-heavy class was suddenly weighing on you.

You paused outside the classroom, staring at the door. It was just a class. Just an hour, and then you’d be done for the day.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was already filling up with fresh faces. You scanned the rows of desks, looking for a spot where you could blend in. After a moment, you settled into a seat toward the back, hoping to go unnoticed.

As you pulled out your notebook and laptop, you caught snippets of conversations from the students around you. They were buzzing with excitement about writing for the school paper or getting their hands on some broadcast work. You smiled, remembering the time you had been as eager and wide-eyed.

The door swung open again, and you glanced up out of habit. When you saw who had walked in, your heart skipped a beat - Joohyun.

Your mind immediately went into overdrive. What was she doing here? This was just some intro class. Joohyun was a psych major. Surely she didn’t need to be here too. Yet, there she was, making her way into the room with that grace you admired from afar. She didn’t seem to notice you as she scanned the room for a seat.

You quickly ducked your head, pretending to be engrossed in your notes. The last thing you needed was for Joohyun to catch you staring. As fate would have it, she ended up sitting just a few rows ahead of you. Close enough that you couldn’t help but notice every time she shifted in her seat. Great.

The lecture began as Professor Kim walked in, her presence instantly commanding the room. You’d taken a few classes with her before, so you knew she was the type to keep things moving quickly. After a brief introduction, she jumped right into the syllabus.

“Welcome to Journalism 1,” Professor Kim began, her tone brisk. “I know some of you are here because you’re excited about journalism, some because it’s a requirement, and some because, well, you need the credits.” A few chuckles rippled through the room, and you allowed yourself a small smile.

She went on to explain the course structure—lectures, assignments, workshops—but it was when she reached the partner project that your attention fully snapped back.

“As part of this course, you’ll be working on a partner project,” Professor Kim announced, scanning the room. “This will be an opportunity to apply what you’re learning in a practical way. You’ll be paired in a few weeks, and I expect each team to produce a piece of journalism that could be print, broadcast, or multimedia. This counts as the final of this class so you will have the second half of the semester to work on it.”

You swallowed hard. Partner projects were always a bit of a gamble. It could mean working with someone who’d pull their weight, or it could mean babysitting.

“Now, before anyone panics,” Professor Kim continued with a faint smile, “I want to reassure you that I’m here to help, and so are your classmates. In fact, I see a familiar face in the crowd.” Her eyes landed on you, and you froze.

“Ah, yes, there you are,” Professor Kim said, her smile growing. “I’m sure many of you don’t know this yet, but we have a bit of an expert with us today. She’s done excellent work for the school newspaper and the college news station, and she excelled in my previous classes.” You felt your cheeks flush as several heads turned in your direction. So much for flying under the radar.

“So, if you have questions about storytelling, pitching ideas, or even how to juggle deadlines, don’t hesitate to ask her,” Professor Kim added, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “She’s a great resource.”

You managed a weak smile and a nod, trying to look like you weren’t about to melt into your chair. Inside, though, your nerves were high. Being called out like that was the last thing you’d expected. You’d wanted to blend in, not stand out, especially with Joohyun just a few rows ahead.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur, your mind racing with a mix of anxiety and curiosity. What if you ended up paired with Joohyun for the project? Like that would happen.

As Professor Kim wrapped up the class and dismissed everyone, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape. You slung you bag over your shoulder and made a beeline for the door, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters.

But as you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance back. Joohyun was still in the classroom, slowly packing her things. She didn’t seem to notice you at all, and for once, you were grateful. You needed time to figure out how you were going to navigate the rest of the semester…

The media center had always been your safe place, the place where you could bury yourself in work and forget about everything else. The familiar hum of activity filled the space as students shuffled between the school newspaper and the college radio station. The faint sound of music from the radio station’s booth mixed with the low murmur of conversations, and you felt your shoulders relax a little as you made your way to your usual spot near the back.

You practically lived here, spending countless hours on projects, hanging out with the news and radio staff. Today was no different, except for one thing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joohyun showing up in Journalism 1. You were halfway through editing some soundbites for the soccer team’s story when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Look who survived!" Yerim’s voice rang out, dripping with playful sarcasm. She plopped down into the chair next to you, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "How was J1 and how does it feel to be Professor Kim’s golden child?"

You groaned, regretting that you texted Yerim everything that happened and ran a hand through your hair. "Don’t remind me. I was trying to hide. Now everyone’s gonna think I’m some know-it-all."

Yerim snickered. "Please. Half those freshmen probably think you’re a TA or something. They’ll be asking you for help with their shit by the end of the week."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. "Just what I needed. More work."

"So, tell me," Yerim leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What’s this about Bae Joohyun being in your class? You nearly faint when you saw her?"

"Not quite," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. "But yeah, she’s in J1. No idea why, though."

Yerim raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Seriously? What’s she doing in intro courses? She’s like, Miss Campus Everything."

"That’s what I was wondering," you replied, mindlessly fiddling with a pen. "I didn’t get a chance to ask her, obviously. I figured she’d be in some psych courses, not sitting through the basics of journalism."

Yerim snorted. "Maybe she’s got a secret passion for headline writing. Or she’s just there to watch you squirm."

"Ha ha, very funny," you shot back, though the thought of Joohyun silently judging you made your stomach twist. "I’m just curious, okay? It’s not every day someone like her shows up like that."

Before Yerim could respond, a familiar face appeared in the doorway, Changmin, the station manager. He was juggling a stack of papers and his ever-present coffee mug, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. But despite his appearance, there was a warmth about him that made everyone feel welcome.

"Hey, Changmin!" Yerim called out, waving him over. "You got a minute?"

Changmin ambled over, setting his papers down on the nearest table. "Always got a minute for you two," he said, his voice tinged with that familiar fatherly tone he used whenever he spoke to his "media kids."

He took a sip of his coffee, looking at you both with kind eyes. "What’s on your minds?"

"We were just talking about Joohyun," Yerim said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "Apparently, she’s in J1 with this one." She pointed at you. "Any idea why she’s slumming it with us peasants?"

Changmin’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, and then he smiled, nodding as if something had clicked into place. "Ah, yes. She mentioned that to me last week when she stopped by the station. She’s minoring in broadcasting, so J1 is a requirement for her."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Broadcasting? Really?"

"Yup," He confirmed. "She’s got big plans, wants to do more on-air work and maybe even take on some anchoring for the morning news. She’s driven and looking to learn as much as she can."

"Wow, I’m down so bad," you groaned, feeling a mix of awe and admiration. What couldn’t this woman do?

Yerim patted your back, though you could hear the laughter in her voice. "Chill. You’re gonna be just fine. If anything, this is your chance to impress her with your charm and expertise. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up partners for that J1 project."

"Yeah, right," you muttered, though the idea made your heart race. “Knowing my luck, I’ll get paired with someone who doesn’t even show up to class.”

Changmin shook his head with a smile, gathering up his papers from the table. "Good luck with that. And hey, if you do end up working with her on that project, just be yourself. You’ve got plenty of experience to share, and she’s smart enough to appreciate that."

You felt a bit of the tension in your chest ease. Changmin had a way of making everything seem okay, like you could handle whatever came your way. "Thanks, Changmin. That… actually helps a lot."

“Anytime,” he smiled warmly, “Just remember - you’re here because you love what you do, and that passion is going to carry you through, no matter who’s in the class with you."

With that, he gave you both a reassuring nod and headed out the door, leaving you feeling more grounded than you had all day.

Yerim turned back to you, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "So, what’s the game plan now? You gonna impress her with your skills?"

"Or," you said, raising an eyebrow, "I could just try not to trip over my own feet in front of her."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Yerim teased. "But seriously, this could be your chance to show her what you’re made of."

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite the butterflies in your stomach. "We’ll see. I’m not even sure if she’s into girls like that. For now, I’m just gonna take it one class at a time."

Yerim grinned, giving you a mock salute. "That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need any tips on charming her, I’m always here."

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the soccer field. The air buzzed with anticipation as the men’s soccer team warmed up for their first game of the season against a visiting school. You were stationed near the sidelines, camera in hand, ready to capture the action for the upcoming story you were working on. This game would be a key piece of the puzzle, the team’s first real test of the season.

You adjusted your lens, focusing on Minho as he led the team through drills, his every move sharp and precise, though his gaze drifted to the stands every so often, like his mind was somewhere else. The team was hyped for the season, with high expectations from everyone around them. But your attention wasn’t fully on Minho or the players. No, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joohyun.

Ever since you found out she was in Journalism 1, you couldn’t stop wondering about her. And now, here you were again, on the same field where you’d seen her just last week, except this time, you knew a little more about her goals and ambitions. Broadcasting. It made perfect sense, really.

"Hey," Yerim’s voice broke through your thoughts as she appeared by your side, her usual teasing grin in place. "You’re not drooling over Minho, are you? Because that would make things even weirder."

You smirked, rolling your eyes. "As if. I’m just trying to get the perfect shot."

"Uh-huh," Yerim said, jokingly denying your response. She nudged you playfully with her elbow. "So, what’s the deal? Are you gonna make a move on Joohyun? Or are you still playing the long game?"

"I’m not playing anything," you sighed, adjusting your camera to focus on another player. "She has a boyfriend, and I’m not exactly keen on being a homewrecker."

"Well, you know what they say," Yerim wiggled her brows, leaning against the fence. "Never let your boyfriend get in the way of you finding your wife. Maybe you’ll get partnered up for the big project and bond over broadcasting."

You snorted. "Or I’ll just end up partnered with some random person."

"Optimism isn’t your strong suit, is it?" Yerim clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "You never know. Stranger things have happened."

Just then, the sound of laughter caught your attention. You glanced up from your camera and, unsurprisingly, saw Joohyun walking onto the field with the other cheerleaders. They were here to support the team, of course, and Joohyun looked as perfect as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she wore the red and white cheer uniform that seemed to hug her body so well.

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do whenever she was around, and you cursed yourself for it. This was getting sad.

Yerim followed your gaze, her grin widening. "Speak of the devil," she said, her tone practically singing. "Maybe she’ll come over here. Give you a chance to work that journalistic charm."

"Sure," you muttered, trying to refocus on the task at hand. "She’s here with her team to support the guys, duh."

But as fate would have it, Joohyun’s path did seem to be leading her closer to where you stood. She waved at a few friends as she made her way toward the sidelines, but then her eyes landed on you. For a brief moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. Should you wave? Smile? Pretend you hadn’t seen her at all?

Joohyun didn’t seem to have any hesitation, though. She gave you a small, polite smile and a nod as she passed by, her gaze lingering just a second longer than you expected. It wasn’t much - just a brief moment of acknowledgment - but it was enough to make you almost crazy.

Yerim nudged you again, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did you see that? She smiled at you! Oh my god, this is progress. We’re making moves!"

"Calm down," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "It was just a smile. She smiles at everyone at games."

"Yeah, but she smiled at you and I’m standing here like a snack," Yerim insisted, her grin widening. "That’s gotta mean something."

You shook your head, “You’re being delusional, Yerim.”

Before she could respond, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the scrimmage. The players took their positions on the field, and you quickly turned your attention back to your camera.

Throughout the game, you found yourself glancing over at Joohyun more than you intended to. Every time you tried to focus on the action on the field, your eyes betrayed you, drifting back to where she stood, cheering with that infectious enthusiasm. Her smile seemed to light up the entire stadium, brighter than the field lights themselves.

But then it happened. She caught you staring. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze collided with hers, and for a split second, you froze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. Joohyun met your eyes and gave you another smile, one that felt warm, but suddenly it made you feel exposed.

You quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your camera settings, but the embarrassment lingered. God, she probably thinks I’m a creep, you thought, mentally kicking yourself.

As the game wore on, you put those thoughts aside to focus on the story. By the time the final whistle blew, you were more relieved than anything. The match had been tense, and you were just glad it was over. The team celebrated their hard-fought win, and you lowered your camera, ready to pack up and call it a day.

But then, Minho had to pull his jersey over his face in celebration, revealing a perfectly toned set of abs and stealing the attention of his fangirls and fanboys. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Of course, he has abs, you thought, trying to suppress the mild envy creeping in

"Well, that was fun," Yerim said, stretching as she stood up. "So, what’s the plan now? You gonna stick around for interviews, or are we grabbing food?"

"I need to get a few more shots and talk to the coach about the game," you replied, packing up your gear. "But after that, food sounds good."

"Cool. I’ll wait for you by the bleachers," Yerim said, chucking up a peace sign. "Try not to let Joohyun distract you too much."

You rolled your eyes as she walked off, but you couldn’t help but smile…

You and Yerim walked across campus, the fliers in your hands feeling heavier with every step. The afternoon sun was sitting high in the sky, and you were starting to regret your life choices - mainly, why you agreed to this. Promoting the annual college radio event wasn’t exactly thrilling, especially knowing it had the energy of a retirement home bingo night.

"I still can’t believe you volunteered for this," Yerim said, holding up a flier like it was a tragic masterpiece. "No one ever shows up, except for a few lost freshmen."

You sighed, pinning another flier to the bulletin board outside the student center. "I know, but Changmin looked desperate. And I already feel guilty knowing it’ll probably be a flop, so I figured I’d help out."

Yerim gave you an exaggerated look of pity. "This is like going from your prime time slot to a 2 a.m. infomercial. What’s next, counting ceiling tiles in the library?"

"Maybe," you muttered. "At least it’d be quiet."

Yerim rolled her eyes and smirked. "You’re such an old lady."

You chuckled, knowing it was half-true. As you both made your way to the psychology department, where there were a few more pinboards, your attention suddenly caught on something or rather, someone.

Joohyun.

She was standing near the water fountain, refilling her water bottle, her calm, collected presence making your stomach do that fluttery thing again. The memory of the game popped back into your mind, specifically, the part where she caught you staring at her like a total creep. You’d been trying to shake off the embarrassment ever since.

Yerim noticed her too, and the familiar mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. "Hey, isn’t that your favorite cheerleader?" she whispered, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Now’s your chance. Go say hi."

You shot her an exasperated look. "Why would I do that? She probably doesn’t even know my name. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m the person who stared at you during the game’?"

Yerim smirked, clearly enjoying your inner turmoil. "Oh, come on. She’s probably forgotten all about it. Just go over there, act normal, and don’t bring up your little staring contest."

You sighed, trying to focus on the pinboard in front of you instead of the fact that Joohyun was literally ten feet away. "You’re making this sound easy."

"Well, if you’re not going to do it yourself, I’ll just have to help you along," Yerim said, and before you could protest, she not-so-subtly nudged you in Joohyun’s direction.

You stumbled forward, barely catching yourself as you nearly collided with Joohyun. She turned around just in time to see you regaining your balance, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Oh, sorry!" you blurted out, awkwardly clutching your stack of fliers. "I didn’t see you there."

Joohyun blinked, then offered you a polite smile. "That’s okay. It happens."

Yerim, who had positioned herself conveniently nearby, was failing miserably at pretending not to be entertained by the whole situation. You could feel her eyes boring into you, silently egging you on.

"Uh, how’s it going?" you asked, internally cringing at how generic that sounded.

"Good," Joohyun replied, her tone soft. She glanced at the fliers in your hands. "Hanging up fliers?"

"Yeah," you said, trying to sound casual. "Just helping out with some promotions. You know, the usual."

She nodded, her expression still neutral. There was a moment of silence, just long enough to make you start to sweat, before she offered you a small smile. "You’re always working hard, aren’t you?"

Your brain stalled. For a second, you weren’t sure you heard her right. Joohyun noticed you? You, the girl who had been trying to stay invisible this entire time? Your mouth went dry as your mind raced to come up with a response, something coherent at least, but all that came out was, “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Great. Really nailed it. You could practically feel Yerim’s second-hand embarrassment radiating from a few feet away, but Joohyun didn’t seem fazed. In fact, her smile lingered, like she was waiting for you to say more.

"I mean, I like staying busy," you added hastily, trying to recover. Your heart hammered in your chest as you searched her face for any sign of amusement or judgment, but all you saw was that same curiosity. It was unnerving, yet kind of thrilling.

“Well, it shows,” Joohyun said, giving a small nod before glancing at the stack of fliers in your hands. "Good luck with the event."

And just like that, she turned to leave, her water bottle in hand, leaving you standing there, gripping the fliers like a lifeline.

It took a second for your brain to catch up to the rest of your body, the interaction replaying in your mind on a loop. She noticed you. She thought you worked hard. You wanted to feel proud, but all you could focus on was the fact that Joohyun noticed you.

Behind you, Yerim’s muffled laughter broke through the haze of disbelief. "Oh my god, you should see yourself. You’re totally blushing!”

You tried to play it cool, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I-I’m not, the AC in here sucks," you mumbled, even though it was perfectly cool and ventilated throughout the building.

As you moved on to the next pinboard, you replayed the brief conversation with Joohyun in your mind, chastising yourself for every little mistake you made but also a little proud you didn’t spontaneously combust in front her. Well, a win is a win…

It had been a few weeks since you hung fliers in the psychology department, awkwardly bumping into Joohyun. Since then, your time in the media center had dwindled. Other students on the school paper were eager to get their hands on some sports stories, and you were more than happy to give them the reigns. Besides, the break gave you a chance to slow down and focus on other things like keeping up with your classes, helping your peers, and seeing Joohyun in Journalism 1 twice a week.

You couldn’t exactly say things had changed much between you and Joohyun. You still admired her from afar, barely making eye contact during class, and any passing interactions were short-lived. But today, Professor Kim was ramping things up with the partner project, and your mind buzzed with nerves and anticipation.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Professor Kim’s voice rang out, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You've all been building your skills over the last few weeks, and now it’s time to put them into practice with a partner project."

Your stomach twisted. The partner project? Already? You glanced around the room as a few students exchanged looks. This was going to be interesting.

“You and your partner will be interviewing each other,” Professor Kim continued, pacing at the front of the classroom. “Twenty minutes each, so forty minutes in total. I want you and your partner to find something newsworthy to report on based on your interviews. Whether it's a unique hobby, an unusual experience, or a surprising interest. You’ll need to research your partner beforehand. Stalk them a bit on social media, Google them, find out whatever you can. Then, write 8 to 10 questions for the interview which will be due by class next Monday, and next Wednesday there will be no class, so you have time to interview your partner.”

Your mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario, being paired with someone who didn’t care about the project. Or worse, being paired with Joohyun. You gulped at the thought.

“The final story will be collaborative," Professor Kim continued, "There are different requirements for the project depending on the medium of your choice - print, audio, or video, but the details of that are on the syllabus.”

Professor Kim then held up a small hat, clearly excited about what was coming next. “Half of you will tear out a piece of paper, write your name, and drop it into this hat. The other half will draw a name, announce it, and that will be your partner.”

The class groaned, but you could tell some people were excited. You, however, were trying to calculate the odds of not getting paired with Joohyun.

You watched as the first half of the class, including Joohyun, scribbled their names on pieces of paper and dropped them into the hat. You were in the second half, the group tasked with pulling names. As the hat slowly circled around the room, Professor Kim paused at each student to let them pick.

Your heart pounded harder with every name that was read aloud.

“Kim Minjeong.”

“Jung Jaehyun.”

“Jimin—oh, great…”

One by one, names were called out, and with each one, you felt a strange mixture of relief and rising panic. The hat finally made its way to you. Your hands were clammy as you reached in, fishing around until you grabbed a small slip of paper.

Please don’t be Joohyun, please don’t be Joohyun, you chanted in your head.

You opened the slip of paper.

“Bae… Joohyun.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You felt your stomach drop as the room went quiet. You could feel the eyes on you—mostly Yerim’s, though her smug face was nowhere to be seen—and you froze, struggling to keep your cool. When you finally glanced up, Joohyun was looking directly at you, her expression calm but curious.

You swallowed hard, trying to seem composed. You definitely didn’t feel composed.

Professor Kim smiled and nodded. “Great. Everyone else has their partners. Before you leave, I want you to exchange contact information, introduce yourselves, though I assume most of you already know each other, and plan a time to meet.”

You stayed seated for a moment, dreading the thought of standing up and walking over to Joohyun. But you had to do it. You have to be professional, you reminded yourself.

After taking a deep breath, you stood, your legs feeling a little shaky, and walked over to Joohyun’s desk, where she was quietly packing her things. She looked up as you approached, smiling shyly.

“H-hey,” you stammered, nerves kicking in as you awkwardly slid into the seat beside her. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Joohyun nodded with a cute smile. “Looks like it.”

“So, um… we should figure out when to meet for the interviews,” you said, trying to sound normal but feeling anything but with her watching you with bright eyes.

“Yeah,” Joohyun agreed easily. “How about next Wednesday? Or whenever works for you.”

You nodded a bit too quickly. “Sure, that works! I mean, Wednesday’s good for me.”

An awkward pause followed, and you could feel your heart racing as the silence stretched. Desperate to seem less weird, you pulled out your phone - only to fumble it like a hot potato, sending it flying onto the desk with a loud clatter. Joohyun burst out laughing, the sound completely unfiltered.

“Well,” she said moments later, her body shaking slightly with silent laughter, “at least I’m not the only one a little nervous about the project.”

You blinked, your cheeks burning. If only she knew it wasn’t the project making you nervous. “I—I guess we’re in this together,” you mumbled, feeling both embarrassed and relieved.

Joohyun’s smile softened as she picked up your phone and handed it back. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”

You thanked her quietly, your hands brushing for a brief second as you exchanged contact info. The awkward tension between you both started to fade, replaced by a sense of familiarity. Joohyun, despite her reputation, seemed just as shy by the end of class.

“See you next time,” she said gently, her eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah,” you replied, your heart still pounding. “See you.”

As you left the classroom, you pulled out your phone and shot Yerim a quick text.

You (2:33 pm): Guess what? Just got paired with Bae fucking Joohyun for the project.

Her response came back instantly.

Yerim (2:33 pm) ??? are you breathing ???

You nearly choked on a laugh, tucking your phone away. Maybe, just maybe, this project wouldn’t be so bad after all…

The hum of the café provided the perfect background noise as you tried to clear your mind. After a whirlwind week of classes, getting off campus was a much needed escape. The coffee shop you and Yerim had chosen was small, tucked away in a quiet corner of town, just the kind of spot you both liked.

You took a sip of your favorite coffee, the warmth calming your nerves, as you stared at the blank document on your laptop. Interview questions. That’s what you were supposed to be working on. The project with Joohyun was real now, and it was your job to research her and draft some thoughtful questions.

But professionalism wasn’t exactly what was on your mind.

You glanced around the café, making sure Yerim wasn’t paying attention. She was engrossed in her own laptop, typing furiously. Thinking the coast was clear, you pulled up Joohyun’s Instagram on your phone. You’d looked her up before, obviously. Long before this project was even a thing. But back then, her profile had been private. You’d debated sending her a follow request so many times, but always chickened out.

Now, though? You were following each other.

Joohyun had texted you a few days ago, asking for your social media handles. Just seeing her name pop up on your screen had made your heart skip a beat. Bae Joohyun. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine she was texting you for something more. But the excitement faded as soon as you saw her message—it was just about the project.

You sighed and pushed that memory aside as you scrolled through her feed. Her profile was clean, simple, and exactly what you’d expect. Lots of scenic shots, some sunsets, quiet moments in nature. There were a few selfies, where she looked effortlessly stunning, of course. Then, there were the photos of her with Minho.

They seemed happy. A handful of pictures together, tagged at restaurants and casual days out. That familiar twist of disappointment crept up.

"Looking up your new girlfriend, I see?" Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You fumbled, nearly dropping your phone. "What? No!"

Yerim raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Sure, sure. You’re not being very subtle here."

You groaned, putting your phone down. "It’s for the questions I have to come up with. And how many times do I have to remind you about her boyfriend?”

"Ah, yes, perfect Minho," Yerim said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "But you’ve got something too. Maybe not trophies, fame, and abs just yet but you’re a cutie who has a knack for chatting people up.”

You snorted, shaking your head. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Yerim grinned. "Anytime. But seriously, stop creeping on her Instagram and focus on your work, weirdo.”

You walked briskly across campus, your nerves fluttering as you neared the media center. Today was the interview with Joohyun, and while you’d snagged a cozy room filled with snacks and drinks to make things more comfortable, it was hard to shake the anxiety. Joohyun was your partner, and the idea of interviewing her still felt surreal.

Professor Kim’s constant reminder to “dress professionally” echoed in your mind as you tugged at the fitted oxford grey long-sleeve top you wore. The black slacks and boots completed the look, giving you an air of confidence you weren’t entirely sure you felt. Looking the part seemed to be half the battle.

As you approached the media center, you spotted Joohyun waiting by the room door, looking effortlessly composed in a black V-neck sweater tucked into sleek black pants, her low-heeled boots completing the outfit. If Steve Jobs had gone full-on fashion icon, it would be Joohyun. She looked like a young hot CEO of a multibillion-dollar company.

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your racing heart.

Just as you reached for the door, you heard Changmin’s voice behind you.

“Well, don’t you two look serious,” he said with a playful grin, his coffee mug firmly in hand.

Your face flushed instantly, caught off guard by his teasing. He shot you a knowing wink before heading off, leaving you feeling like he knew far more about your situation than you’d ever told him.

You quickly composed yourself and opened the door, motioning for Joohyun to go in first. “After you,” you said, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

“Thanks,” Joohyun replied, offering you a kind smile as she stepped inside.

You let out a small breath of relief as you followed her into the room, shutting the door behind you. The room was quiet, the snacks laid out neatly on the table, and you both settled in quickly, exchanging small talk on the way. Despite your best efforts to stay calm, Joohyun’s presence had you on edge. It wasn’t that you were inexperienced, you’d done countless interviews before, but interviewing her made it different.

After a minute of organizing your notes, you glanced at Joohyun and noticed something that surprised you. She was fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her fingers twisting the fabric, and she shifted in her seat. For someone who always seemed so poised, she looked nervous herself.

You hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, deciding to take a chance. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little… on edge.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not used to doing interviews, especially with someone who’s clearly experienced and really good at what they do.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “You’re nervous because of me?”

She nodded, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Yeah, kind of. You’ve done this a lot, and I’m still figuring things out. Plus, Professor Kim seems to think highly of you, so there’s a bit of pressure.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joohyun, the campus queen, nervous because of you? The thought was almost unreal, and yet here she was, feeling the same way you had when you first saw her name on the slip of paper.

You chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “Trust me, I’m still figuring things out too. Actually…” You hesitated for a second, nerves bubbling up as you decided whether or not to tell her the story. But seeing her this vulnerable made you want to take the chance. “If you’re up for it, I can tell you about the first time I interviewed someone.”

Joohyun looked intrigued, so you continued, even though the story still made you cringe a little. “It was for the school paper during my first year. I was interviewing one of the professors for a feature piece, and I was so nervous, but he reassured me that I wouldn’t do a bad job. So, I got comfortable eventually. We sat there for probably twenty minutes, and I thought I was being all professional, nodding along and asking good questions. Then I realized the recorder wasn’t even on.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward with a wide grin. “Oh god, what did you do?”

“I panicked,” you chuckled, feeling more relaxed now that she was laughing. “I didn’t want to ask him to do the whole thing again, so I tried to rely on my notes, but they were a mess. It was awful. So, I asked for another interview, but he wasn’t exactly enthused about it.”

Joohyun was laughing fully now, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s amazing. I would’ve died.”

“I almost did,” you said, joining in her laughter. “So, if I can survive that, you can survive this. Trust me.”

The tension between you eased as Joohyun relaxed, her shoulders no longer hunched and her fingers no longer fidgeting with her sweater. “Thanks for sharing that,” she said, still smiling. “I guess I was overthinking it.”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “You’re going to do great. And we’re just practicing, right? I’m here to help.”

The interview started smoothly after that. Joohyun’s answers were thoughtful and personal. She talked about psychology and why she was drawn to it, places she’s traveled, and how she balanced her academics with her extracurriculars. She mentioned how photography was a way for her to decompress, especially when she captured photos of the sky and nature, and how there was a small garden on campus that was her favorite spot to think.

By the time it was her turn to interview you, she was much more confident. Her questions were unpresumptuous and relevant. They were about why you chose journalism, what kept you motivated when things got tough, and what got you into photography yourself.

“I saw some of your nature shots,” Joohyun said, her voice thoughtful. “They seem to be mostly pictures taken on hiking trips, is that right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of a side hobby. It helps me clear my head.”

As she listened carefully to you, you could see her growing more comfortable in the journalist role. By the time the interview wrapped up, the room felt lighter, and you were both sighing with relief.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” you teased, packing up your notes.

Joohyun smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxed. “You’re really good at making people feel comfortable. I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. Then, realizing how it might sound, she quickly added, “Not that I didn’t think you could! I just didn’t expect it to be so… easy.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback by her sudden fluster. “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way at all,” you reassured her. “I’m just glad I could help. And honestly, you did really well too.”

At that, Joohyun’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she let out a small, relieved laugh.

As you both stood to leave, you held the door open for her again, and she glanced back at you with a grateful smile. “Thanks again. Really.”

You returned the gesture, feeling a warm sense of connection. “Anytime.”

As Joohyun walked out, you couldn’t help but feel that things had shifted slightly between you. It wasn’t just about the interview anymore…

After a discussion with Professor Kim and Changmin, you’d finally settled on the next direction of your soccer story. It wasn’t what you had originally planned, but both of them had made a compelling case. A feature on Minho. You’d dig into his struggles growing up and his rise through adversity. It would create the kind of emotional connection that any solid piece of journalism needed. The story wasn’t just solely about soccer anymore. It was the kind of personal journey that would resonate with the audience.

You knew it was great for your portfolio too. It was exactly the type of human-interest story that could set you apart when applying for future jobs. You agreed to it, even though the idea of digging deeper into Minho’s life, with your feelings for Joohyun lurking in the background, made you a little uncomfortable. You could handle this professionally though. You had to.

Later that day, after his practice with the soccer team, you spotted Minho chatting with some of his teammates near the field. Taking a deep breath, you approached him.

“Minho,” you called out, waving slightly as you approached.

He turned to you, a welcoming smile already in place. “Hey! What’s up?”

You adjusted your bag, feeling the weight of it on your shoulder as you tried to keep your tone casual. “I wanted to talk to you about a potential story for the school radio.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I was thinking about doing a feature on you. Something about you and not just soccer, how you’ve gotten to where you are now. I think it would be a really strong piece, but only if you’re up for it, of course.”

Minho’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. “Wow. I don’t know what to say… I mean, I’d be honored. But really? A story on me?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I think people would really connect with it.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded slowly. “If you think it’s a good idea, then I’m in.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Great. I’ll start pulling things together soon, and we can schedule some time for interviews.”

Minho smiled humbly, “Sounds good. Thanks for thinking of me. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you said, giving him a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

After getting his contact info, you met up with Yerim at a nearby bar, ready to drink away some of the tension that had been building all week. Three shots in, you were starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol loosening up your thoughts. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You saw Joohyun’s name, and your heart did its usual happy flip. You quickly swiped to read her message.

Joohyun (9:17 pm): Hey, when do you want to meet to go over what we should report on from our interviews? I was thinking we could talk about it next week?

You exhaled slowly, the thrill of seeing her name making you grin. Joohyun texting first? A miracle. Her message was all business, which was its own kind of reality check, but hey, she was the one messaging you, and right now, that felt like something.

You had thought about meeting her at one specific place, but that was sober you and you didn’t have the guts to ask. However, with a little liquid courage coursing through your veins, you typed back, smirking to yourself.

You (9:19 pm) Nxt week sounds good, but I have an idea.. wanna go to that boba place on main st. aftr class on monday?

Satisfied, you hit send and dropped the phone back into your pocket, telling yourself you were such a genius for thinking of a way to spend more time with Joohyun, completely unaware of the grave you were digging for yourself…

To be continued...

#irene x reader #bae joohyun x reader #red velvet imagines

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vnamps · 5 months ago

Text

THE GRADE AID. 001

next. |

overall summary: lee min-ho, your absolute academic rival, an absolute menace needs help to raise his grade before the semester ends, and who better to ask for help than you, the grade aid.

overall contents: minho is cocky, a bunch of teasing, angst, fights, mentions of injuries, good ending, lowercase

word count: 0.98k

lee minho, the school's most popular male, the son of a wealthy businessman, and your absolute rival in school. he was an absolute menace, someone who'd egg you on if you'd ever get even 1% less than him on tests, someone who didn't even have to make attempts to get a good grade, he was naturally smart and even if he wasn't, his father could still silver spoon him into good schools.

this same minho now sat at the table inside the chemistry lab, looking at his paper in pure horror. A big circular number on his paper read beside the percentage sign. and as if that hadn't been scary enough, the message below was even worse.

"I am disappointed in your efforts, mr. lee"

the words were intensely scary it was almost as if he could hear your voice saying it for some reason.

"zero? damn, that's harsh." he turned out to meet your face, peering over his shoulder with a grinning expression.

you made your way to a seat next to him, sighing loudly, reminiscent of all the times he did the same to you in a test.

"oh yeah? what'd you get?" he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

a smile appeared on your face as you slid your paper over to him, his eyes widening slightly but his overall expression the same.

one-hundred and twenty percent??

"I know you may be wondering, how does such a strong, intelligent, empathetic being get such a high score, minus the extra credit."

"I'm not wondering, I don't care." he was salty, you took note of that. you laughed a little to yourself as you felt victorious for once in your whole rivalry.

the whole rivalry started 3 years ago when you all got the exam results posted on a bulletin outside. whilst everyone raved on about how smart you were, minho felt jealous and decided he wanted to be smart as well

after that, minho would feel such high validation and get praise for being able to beat you in certain subjects, becoming the first topic when it comes to student intelligence.

It annoyed you. why would someone like him wanna take the one good thing you had? he had luxury, he had potential love interests, and he had a life made up for him. so why was it that he constantly felt the need to take away your progress?

it was a question both you and he constantly asked yourselves. one even jisung asked himself as minho ranted to him.

"they laughed in my face, jisung." minho emphasized as he rubbed his temples, sighing in disbelief.

jisung was scrolling through his phone, showing halfhearted sympathy as he lifted his head to look at minho. "well they're only giving you the same thing you give them." jisung reasoned which caused minho to sigh again.

as days passed, minho constantly saw a downgrade in his chemistry work, more messages filled with the word "disappointed". this went on for about 2 weeks before the teacher pulled him aside at the end of class.

"mr. lee" she starts off, peering up at him through her glasses before sighing and shaking her head.

he already knows what's to come as he approaches her desk, a worried look on his face.

"lately, I've been seeing some uh.. flaws in your work for the past few weeks and I've been a bit concerned." she brings out a slip of paper, handing it to him.

"this is a mini graph of your grades and how they can affect you going into college if you don't fix them.''

minho sighs, looking down for a second before lifting his head back up. "Is there any way I can fix them before the semester ends?"

her face lights up in a suggestive smile and minho feels the weights of his shoulders lift a little with hope.

"I like that you're not willing to give up, I'm proud of you," she states before bringing out folders filled with student applications.

"I have a few students who are doing exceptionally well in my classes and may be willing to help you." she opens the first folder, your picture is there as well as your tutor information. she lets out a small aha before showing minho.

"y/n l/n, they excel the most in my classes, I assume you'd know them?" minho's eyes widen once he sees the picture, a small sigh leaving his mouth as he looks away, muttering a small "yes''

"great! I'll get them to tutor you, starting tomorrow, the more time, the merrier"

as the day went on minho dreaded the fact you had to tutor him. he wished it was someone who liked him more, someone who'd guarantee his good grades.

the next day went by scarily fast as now he sat in the library, watching your figure make your way over to the table, an annoyed look on your face.

"do you intend on bothering me, lee?" your face was stern as you stared at him with widened eyes.

he sighed and rolled his eyes. "I didn't have a choice, I wouldn't have chosen you if I did."

you let out a harsh airy breath, setting your books on the table. "as if you couldn't have gotten a personal tutor instead of wasting my time. oh wait, I forgot you need daddy's money to afford that and of course, you wouldn't want daddy to think his little son wasn't perfect."

minho rolled his eyes once more. "right. if you're gonna keep talking instead of helping me, I'd be very happy to tell her that her perfect little ace isn't as generous as she believed" his head was tilted to the side, his eyes bleeding into you as he spoke.

you sighed in return, sitting down before opening the books, starting your first lesson.

#🗯 : THE GRADE AID #skz #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz stay #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #minho #minho x reader #lee know #lee minho #stray kids minho #stray kids x reader #stray kids

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demontonic · 6 months ago

Note

Could you possibly do a WandaNat x FEM daughter reader where reader comes home with bruises from being bullied and tries to hide them but fails? And also that the reader is being cyberbullied please? Thank you!

Mothers Know Best

WandaNat x GN!Reader Mothers Know Best

WandaNat

tw: bullying

word count: 845

The air seemed to still once you entered your home, your legs sore and beaten as well as your hair tangled and ratty. You make a feeble attempt to smooth your hair down in the mirror by the front door, anyone who knows you however could tell you were shaken. Your arms were scratched all the up to your elbows from when you shielded your face. Mama Nat always suggested that she teach you basic combat to which Mother Wanda always declined. They both wanted to give you a normal household, keeping their abilities to a minimum to ensure regular development. In hindsight as Wanda begins to feel your overwhelming emotions, she starts to doubt her decisions.

Quietly sitting in your room, changed into a shirt with long sleeves and pj shorts, you try to process everything. Why has it always been so hard? Why was it always you? What was wrong with you? When would you stop feeling like this? Would you stop feeling like this?

“Of course you will love.” That sweet voice that had always been there when the monsters felt too real, or when you fell and hurt your shins. Her red hair came into view and the smell of vanilla and everything sweet filled your senses. You’re old enough to know about their enhancements without babbling on to everyone. Of course sometimes you hated the mind reading, but when you couldn’t face up to reality like now, it was a godsend.

“Just mean kids, a bad day, long walk home… I’m okay.” Lying right in front of Wanda was a stupid decision for anyone who dared. So when her hands grabbed your wrist and pulled your sleeve back you simply trembled. No argument or excuses to be made once her eyes zeroed in on the damage done to her precious baby.

“Who the fuck layed hands on you?” A voice you grew to both fear and respect rang like alarms in your ears. Your eyes catching on Nat’s fierce emerald pair, dread filling your stomach.

“I fell on my shortcut thr-“

“Through the creek.”

Clearly they were tired of you defending your assaulters, it was common now. You believed that if you stopped caring they’d pick on someone who would give a reaction. Now being halfway through the school year your Moms have decided otherwise.

“Is that why you cry after getting phone calls? Are they bothering you at home now?”

“I don’t know who makes the-“

“You know the group who’s capable, that’s enough for me.” Nat took a seat behind you, cleaning off the thin scratches with a warm damp towel. Wanda sat in silence, hearing your mind race a thousand miles an hour. Her fingers brushed over your legs as she began to notice bruises, both old and some still forming.

“Tell us what happened, you know I don’t like forcing this information out of you.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“I either hack into the accounts that contact you and find their addresses, Wanda reads your mind, or you can tell us what happened.” Nat’s voice was stern, you could hear it falter as she tried to remain gentle but she succumbed to her instincts.

“It was a group of people from my art class, the teacher really likes my art so everyone calls me a teacher's pet. It only got worse when they found out I’m adopted. Today was just out of nowhere, I didn’t know they were following me. They kicked at my legs and shoved me into the bushes. That's why there’s… so much.” You ended with a hushed voice, gesturing to the visible marks.

“Those children are just that, children. They’re far less intelligent than you, emotionally and intellectually, you are different and they don’t like that.” Wanda brushed hair out of your face in order to lock eyes with you, cementing every syllable that came out of her mouth.

“So don’t let them work you up this much kid, in a few years you’ll laugh at them because they’re stuck working in fast food places.” Nat rested her hand on your shoulder while offering you a kind smile. You loved these moments, relished in them to be exact. You felt safe within their presence because you knew they’d do anything to maintain your happiness.

“You’re right, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it like that before.”

“Sometimes you just get caught up in the moment, just know that we’re always here for you- and! We love you, always.”

“Always.” Nat added as she kissed your forehead before standing and heading towards the door.

“Now I made some really good cookies that should be ravished while they’re still warm.” The three of you smiled as you followed Nat into the kitchen, the evening following as normal. A snack, tv shows, dinner and a movie. Tonight however Natasha and Wanda spent a few minutes finding the parents of these kids to make sure you’d never have to deal with them again.

I know it’s really short however I thought it best to keep this as like a drabble/scenario. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this cute little work, I am hopeing to produce better pieces in the very near future! In the meantime please do not be afraid to send requests and look through my masterlist!

#wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wandavision #wanda marvel #wanda maxmoff x y/n #mommy wanda #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black widow #marvel fanfiction #natasha marvel #wandanat #wanda x natasha #wanda x nat x reader #natasha x you #demontonic #D3M0NT0N1C

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whoslaurapalmer · 7 months ago

Note

twin peaks but it happens in 2010. laura palmer have iphone etc etc

this ask has been haunting me since i saw it last night oh my god okay okay so

i wanted to lead with laura being an influencer but no one was quite influencing in 2010 yet. but the point here being that i think she posts a lot online and cultivates her online image very carefully (very soft, carefree, excited teenager) and has a LOT of followers on everything and always gets a ton of likes. bc it's laura, she's so beautiful and special and popular, of course everyone is following her, of course everyone is liking all her posts to get a piece of her

she has a twitter (laurapalmer93) where she posts a lot of pictures with little captions like.......'morning donuts at the diner!!' with a picture of the donuts and a milkshake or a Coffee To Be An Adult, 'can you believe this guy? <3' with a picture of bobby making a face (or even.........dare i say it...........doing the dougie), a picture of donna and james with '<33333333' (modern emojis were just getting really big then but i myself was not a big emoji user in 2010 yet, so neither is laura), 'don't tell ;)' with a picture of her holding a cigarette (of course everyone still smokes in the high school bathrooms).

one time she gets away with posting the lyrics to if i die young by the band perry (IF I DIE YOUNG! BURY ME IN SATIN! LAY ME DOWN ON A BED OF ROSES!) (FUNNY WHEN YOU'RE DEAD HOW PEOPLE START LISTENING!) bc it's a popular song. it raises a few eyebrows but it's a song and it's laura. how seriously do you take teen angst, even among your friends? that's just what laura does. what's there to really worry about, huh? (the song was released in may 2010 but let's say the lead up to her death is in 2010)

on facebook she posts a lot of volunteer stuff. school dance photos, which she helps organize. buy some cookies to support the french club!! she's very involved with student council, and she organizes the group halloween costume. her facebook is filled with photos of her with other people, but not really any of just her. she doesn't post a lot of statuses, but they're usually about homework or tests or 'feels like summer!' towards the end of the school year. she's friends with her parents. she definitely takes ap classes.

she has a private vent twitter (lostinthewoods) with zero followers that she uses as a diary bc she thinks it'll be safer than having it physically written down. her childhood lisa frank diary with the tiny lock and glitter gel pens that she kept in her bed post went missing, after all. her vent twitter is filled with sooooooo many tweets bc this was still the 160 character limit days and she would just post and post and post especially late at night. (she definitely has string lights in her room.) she is a MASTER of using her phone with no one seeing -- she has the layout absolutely memorized. she was only caught texting in class once and of course the teacher let it go.

bob/leland finds her passwords and breaks into the vent twitter and leaves her horrifying tweets she sees later, instead of the back and forth they have in the diary and leland ripping the pages out.

i think she has a third twitter, for sex, but i'm not sure if that tracks for the time period? (snapchat wasn't a thing until fall 2011.) or like a forum sort of thing? i think it's still super easy for laura to sneak out, even in an increased security camera world. there's still a lot of stress on the, yknow, ~secret unexposed underbelly of the world especially in a time of more eyes on everything~ in the 2010s.

meanwhile, james posts music a lot on facebook, and also acoustic covers of songs. like. yknow. HEY SOUL SISTER. donna loves the original pusheen stickers. they record the picnic video on her flip video camera. mike loves icanhascheezburger, and he jailbreaks his phone. audrey gets really into audrey hepburn quote posting, Aesthetic France, black and white photos, berets, has a photography phase and carries and actual camera bc it's Vintage. she's an early tumblr user. no one else in school has a tumblr yet, so she feels very cool but also very lonely about it.

harry has very little understanding of social media, however cooper is very into all social media, he finds it delightful. he enjoys a good cat video. he looks through all of laura's photos, her tweets, facebook videos, and i think there's, honestly even more of a feeling of tragedy bc of how much more physical evidence there is available of laura's life, lingering fingerprints, last tweets, last posts, passwords to put in and information to see, cold blue computer light, the even worse voyeurism in people expecting so much of your life to be online, in watching it play out online, in the image laura created for herself online to be the person people expected

donna rereads laura's twitter in the dead of night, just over and over again. goes back through their texts. so much of grief has become so much more public with social media and using it as a teenager, and there's this back and forth in donna of not posting anything and then posting the most miserable statuses about losing her best friend.

i know i should get deeper into the investigation but i keep thinking instead of how laura definitely gets a 20/20 special. it's probably definitely called 'the secret life of the american teenager.' (bc there was that show on at the time with the same name) elizabeth vargas visits twin peaks, is appropriately grim, there's a lot of b roll of the town and the woods but without the grace of twin peaks' cinematography. they play up the creation of a narrative big, as they always do on 20/20. the revelation of her 'double life' is at the halfway mark and simultaneously not discussed enough and overestimated. 'laura palmer was your average, everyday teenager -- she liked horses. cats. she got good grades, was homecoming queen, had a boyfriend on the football team. she volunteered on weekends. she had her whole life ahead of her. or was there more to the story than anyone knew? was there a dark side to the all-american girl?' oh, it's agonizing. the trailers play up a lot of potential spooky woods stuff that isn't followed through on in the actual episode.

now 20/20 prides itself on getting the story right, so i feel like it's.........i feel like they have to say it's leland at the end (and they definitely never get into anything about bob). but i also think, for some reason, it could easily have a 'we never found the killer' ending. especially re: s3........the thing is, i feel like laura's death particularly is the kind of thing that shows up on 20/20, but the rest of the circumstances would've ended up on like the unsolved mysteries website (the last revival ended in 2010, before the netflix reboot in 2019) (especially with WELL OUR FBI AGENT WENT MISSING). and there's so much online to put together in a website about it, there's so much for people online to dig into who have never even been to twin peaks, to think they know a town and the people in it and the girl who died even if it's just literally THE MOST DISGUSTING VOYEURISM IN THE WHOLE WORLD i just think there's such a. horror in that. people have the most, just, enraging takes when they get involved in a Murder That Happened Somewhere Else. people thinking they alone can figure out a mystery they've never seen, they can of course see something no one else has. and it's different than the people in the town ignoring it -- i think a lot of the secrets in twin peaks stay the same, no matter the time period, so of course it's still, a terrible dying town killing the people in it, maybe even quieter than it is in the original, some new infrastructure but old buildings, not all of them occupied anymore, ANYWAY -- like of course yes people in the town ignore the same amount they did in the original, all small towns bury things. but just bc the town itself isn't paying attention doesn't mean that some rando online is going to know more, no matter how much they think they will. there's like an entitlement to details of a murder, an I Must Be The Hero, The Savior, bc i'm on a fucking reddit thread about it

now i have zero (0) idea of how medical science and forensics work, but i have to assume there have been some advancements in the field between 1989/1990 and 2010/2011. the town still rushes the funeral, but would albert have been able to find anything else sooner? what is it he would have found to point to leland sooner? oh........dna testing, maybe? would he be able to find out about leland right away? there's more of a sense of urgency, maybe less of a slowness between events, even more of a shattering horror. maybe leland goes missing in an attempt to cover things up. hmmmmmm.

final note -- cooper gets called mulder as a nickname bc the x files happened as a show in this universe.

#lulu talks about twin peaks #THIS HAS CONSUMED ME. I HAVE TO PUT IT DOWN. THANK YOU SO MUCH KAM I HAVE LOVED THIS

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heeheesang · 8 months ago

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ₕᵢgₕ ₛcₕₒₒₗ cᵣᵤₛₕ! ₗₑₑ ₕₑₑ ₛₑᵤₙg.

nine -> problems. ( written + text )

“and that was out last topic for the day! you did such a great job learning today, pretty girl. i’m proud of you!” jay smiles sweetly at me as he helps me sort out my items in my bag. “thank you for teaching me, jay! i had a great time learning with you, see you next session?” he nods and packs his items too.

“are you going home alone?” jay asks as we walk out of the library together, he was close to my shoulder, almost zero space between us as we walk side by side. “ah no.. heeseung’s walking back with me. he always waits for me.” i said and moved a little further away to create some space between us.

“alright then, i’ll see you in class tomorrow! goodbye ynnie, get home safely.” jay waved at me and i waved back as i sat on the swing in school. weird that heeseung wasn’t here, he would usually wait here or he would at least place his bag here to let me know he was there. a few minutes went past and it was getting cold, not long later it started pouring and i was drenched in rainwater.

ring ring… ring ring…

heeseung? i picked up the call.

“heeseung?”

“ynnie, where are you?”

“i was at the swing then i moved to the cafeteria, where are you?”

“i was getting my motor bike, it started raining so we can’t walk home today, i’m sorry princess.”

“hey it’s fine.. i’ll come up to you right now, i’ll see you at the gates?”

“i’ll be right here princess.”

i hung up the phone as blush tinted my cheeks, i could never get tired of him calling me princess. something about him just calling me princess makes my heart flutter and have a ride or a themepark in my heart. once i saw heeseung from afar, his arms were wide open and i ran towards him, almost slipping at the end but he caught me and we both hugged each other tightly.

“careful there, princess. wouldn’t want you to miss your performance because of an injury.” heeseung giggled as he lifted me off the floor and hugged me even tighter, “we haven’t seen each other for a day yet you’re acting like we haven’t met in years.” i giggled and blushed as he placed a soft peck on my forehead, “still, you’ll love me either way. now c’mon, let’s get you home before hoon yells at me hm?”

as soon as he started his bike, he reminded me, “hold on tight princess,” taking my arms and wrapping his around his body, which i obviously complied to and hugged his back the whole ride home.

the ride home was very smoothing, with rain, with wind, with heeseung. i like heeseung, the way he acts towards me, they way he helps me with everything, the way he would do anything for me, the way he’s so caring, friendly, loving and kind. he was really the perfect guy, all in one package if you ask me.

“anddd we have arrived!” heeseung said, parking his bike and taking his helmet off, “are you asleep, princess?” i quickly closed my eyes, pretending to sleep as he giggled, “how cute.”

he was very cautious in moving so he wouldn’t ‘wake’ me up, he took off my helmet and carried me bridal style into the house. “we’re home, sunghoon!” heeseung yelled as i felt him sitting down, maybe on the couch?

“heeseung! where’s yn— aw she’s asleep?” “yeah.. and she’s soaking wet from the rain. i’ll put her in her room so she won’t wet the couch, i don’t wanna trouble you, hoon.”

not a minute later, i was picked up again and placed on a soft, fluffy, bouncy matress. a blanket was put over the lower half of my body as my hair was oushed off my face, “sleep well my little princess. i love you,”

masterlist | back | next

taglist! @haechansbbg @saranghaohoshi @rosas-in-the-garden @yourssincerely-mimi @dimplewonie @jwnghyuns

hhs’ notes! i’m sorry if it seems confusing😭 so we have jealous hee and emo yn entering the story👀, i promise it’ll all work out in the end!! as always, thankyou for reading and supporting this smau~ i love you all, here’s a rose! 🌷💘

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hylkun · 1 year ago

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★ highschool crushes ateez

ot8 x gn!reader . 0.8k . fluff/romance . highschool!au . lower case intended .

seonghwa is known by practically the whole campus — the main reason being his looks. every year when valentine’s day came around it wasn’t a surprise to see seonghwa’s desk full of letters, chocolates, gifts and all sorts of things. however he never read a letter, ate a chocolate or kept a gift. he threw each of them away once the day was over, because he only had eyes for you. the next valentine’s day, you found a pink letter on your desk decorated with stickers and doodles, and a candy bar beside it. there was a note, that read: “happy valentine’s day. wanna be mine? - p.s.”

hongjoong is the class president, the only student who manages to get everyone in order because they found him intimidating. he observed that he never had to speak to you about behaving or lowering down because, well, you were always in your own world. hongjoong grew to like you since it was one less student he had to deal with daily. later, he found out that he didn’t just like you because of your well mannered behavior, but also your personality. but it took him weeks to ask you out because he could never find the courage to.

yunho decided to tryout for the school’s volleyball team, since he needed some type of extracurricular activity on his record to get into a good college. during tryouts you just so happened to be walking by the court and as yunho hit the ball with the palm of his hand it shot right towards you and struck you in the face, causing you to lose consciousness. like the gentleman he is he carried you to the infirmary and waited for you to awake so he could formally apologize to you. but when you did, he found himself stumbling all over his words. the next day, you found a note from yunho on your desk. “sorry again! call me xxx-xxx-xxxx.”

yeosang doesn’t talk much and is mostly seen in the library reading. you are somewhat similar to him and also spend your free time in the library. one day yeosang heard that the new volume of his favorite novel, “Imagine us in Heaven” had been added to the library and scurried to read it. but he never knew that you had also peeked an interest in the novel and the both of you grabbed for the book at the same time. “oh, i’m sorry. do you want to read it first?” yeosang couldn’t help but feel his heart race at the fact there was someone who was a fan of this novel too. by the end of the day you were joined by the hip and ranting about the book.

san, the captain of the school’s national football team. everywhere he goes girls ogle and drool over him. many wish to be with him but he’s rejected so many that he’s started to lose count. unfortunately you were also one of those people who were rejected by him. “i’m sorry, i don’t feel the same way about you,” he said. he told himself he had absolutely zero feelings for you but the next day when he saw you laughing so sweetly with his classmates his blood boiled a little too much..

no one has ever heard mingi talk unless a teacher had called upon him or someone spoke to him first which was rare. during math class he wasn’t expecting anyone to voluntarily sit beside him, until you did. he was surprised that someone would want to sit with him, let alone start a conversation. although he never responded to you you kept the conversation going which made his heart swell. he felt an emptiness when the ball rang and you had to leave. hopefully tomorrow, he could find the courage to sit with you.

everyone found wooyoung intimidating, to the point where people would make a path in the hallway to make ample space for him to walk by. you were also part of this majority that never dared to walk within a foot’s radius of wooyoung, until you lost a bet with your friends and had to go up and start a conversation with him. once you stood in front him and he acknowledged you you could feel your heart rate quickening and beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. “hi, i’m (name). wanna be my friend?” you internally cringed at the sentence that left your mouth but, you were even more shocked when he agreed.

jongho was your seatmate but he’d never talk to you. you tried purposely dropping your belongings so he’d hand them to you, asking him for help when you knew the answers very well and even asking him if he needed help. but outside of class, he never spoke to you. until one day you asked him for assistance for the umpteenth time. “so, if you multiply that 3 times by itself that’s your answer.” you smiled happily at him although you already knew the formula. “you’re really smart, y’know that?” jongho only nodded but he couldn’t help but blush uncontrollably.

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lightofraye · 3 months ago

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Keep fighting the good fight!

I just wanted to comment on a few things:

1.) Every single time Danneel touched Jensen during the WCC panel, he immediately and significantly leaned away.

2.) In the infamous photo of Jensen, Danneel, and their friends (taken while they were dating in the late aughts), Jensen is heavily leaning away from Danneel. He is fully embracing the person next to him, making no active contact with Danneel. She, on the other hand, is plastered onto him from face to thighs, and shoving her hand up his shirts (so much so that his stomach is exposed). Also in that photo, in the back, on the opposite side? Riley. I would love to hear your analysis of that photo, and what you think about that whole messy situation.

I have personally speculated that one of the reasons Jensen initially stayed with Danneel was to save face after detonating a bomb in their social circle. They had to prove that they were really “in love” to justify and excuse the affair. From there, I think social pressure and apathy doomed him into marriage - and I think he’s too “old-school” to divorce her without major cause. They’ll probably be together until he actually catches her in bed with Steve. 🤷‍♀️

Hiiiiii!

Sorry it took me this long to get back to you!

Life happened and I wanted to know if you were okay with your name out there.

That said....

First, thank you SO much for the compliment! I super-appreciate it!

Comment away! I like discussing things!

1) YES! Even when she did that rather overly aggressive shove-pat and claimed to be joking, he turned away from her.

2) I know exactly what photo you're talking about! I can't find it right now but I know which one you mean! She was being overly possessive and clingy, as if to go "See? This is my man!" My lord, woman, show some class and dignity!

I'm told that photo was taken after they married--I believe--and by then they were doing a kind of WB/CW promo thing. Jensen and Riley are clearly professional enough to behave themselves, thankfully.

But I could tell Jensen was tense and not at all comfortable that Danneel was behaving in such a manner. She's always possessive and insecure, even now, which is a damned shame. True confidence stems from inside, not what they're wearing (that had been her answer once, when asked).

So… the timeline of when they got together and how varies because apparently it's hard to keep accurate information. Plus Danneel hired some company or other to scrub a lot of her bullshit off the internet. Thus a lot of her older mean girl tweets are gone.

That said… this is more or less accurate. Jensen was supposedly already broken up from his girlfriend. Danneel was not broken up from Riley. Supposedly they knew each other back from when Jensen helped make the Plight of Clownana. (I watched it on YouTube; it's hilarious.)

Fast forward a few years and Jensen and Danneel meet up again in the making of Ten Inch Hero. Jensen liked to amend years later in conventions that they fell for each other during the commute to filming, and even claimed once that he wrote her a note saying "Not now, someday."

(I believe that note thing is false, because it was brought up so many years later and not during the initial telling back when it happened. Plus, Danneel never brought it up during the Drama Queen podcast despite Jensen claiming she kept it--Danneel stated the only paper thing she kept was the birthday card from Hilarie.)

The problem is… you could tell even during their dating photos, their post-engagement photos and even during their freaking wedding… there was zero chemistry. Zero interest. Danneel was possessive, yes, but affectionate? No. It's even worse from Jensen to her--withdrawn, stiff. He used to be comfortable with PDA before her. Since they started dating then married, it's been bad. He's just not comfortable at all.

Last year at Crossroads, that kiss was painful. He was pulling away and she was forcing him.

Wales Comic Con opened some eyes and it's encouraging. It's not "cute" or "banter" or anything. Not when he actually put himself down and she didn't reassure him. Not once.

So to your theory as to one of the reasons Jensen stayed with Danneel. It's entirely possible… but they were going on 2-3 years of dating and it was only when Jared proposed to Genevieve that Jensen was given the ultimatum--lock her down or she was going to split.

Given it was barely weeks after Jared proposed, I can't help but wonder if Danneel made that threat at all because she felt in competition against Genevieve. She has been for a very long time.

Of course, there was no way Danneel was going to break it off with her money ticket. Ahem.

I do agree social pressure doomed him into the marriage. From the persistent gay rumors (poor guy had been dogged by them since Days of Our Lives) to his father's very harsh expectations… Jensen was in a no-win situation. Maybe he felt Danneel was "good enough" back then.

Then once the ring was on that finger, everything changed.

There's a reason why he says their marriage works better when they're apart--which, honestly, isn't a marriage at all.

So… will he ever divorce her? That is the million dollar question.

From my speculations of the abuse he's under and how hard it is for a victim to break free from that to other possible reasons why he may still stay with her… we can't know. We just don't know.

However, I hope he does. He seems happier, healthier, away from her. A relationship should be a foundation in which to build a good life; not one that drains you.

Thanks for the message. I really appreciate it and your patience.

#anti danneel #anti elta #jensen supportive #jensen concern

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sivavakkiyar · 6 months ago

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Sakai is coming up a lot more recently on here so I’d like to bring up a passage from his interview ‘when race burns class’:

A number of years ago, i was trying to help a group of young Chinese-American activists on an anti-racist campaign. This was an interesting case of how a pure "race" issue only fronted for class politics. Now, these folks were "paper Maoists" in every worst way you could think of – and all my friends know that i'm someone who has warm feelings for the old Chairman. Not only did they have what Mao once called "invincible ignorance", but were also arrogantly full of Han nationalism. They did have physical courage, at least. Their project was to protest the sports racism in the famous industrial town of Pekin, Illinois – which was originally named in the 19th century after Beijing, and whose high school sports teams were colorfully named "the Chinks"! (capitalism, what an ever-amazing civilization – what next? "Auschwitz! The Perfume!" ).

Every week a few carloads of young Asian protesters would arrive in Pekin to picket the high school and city hall, hold television news conferences, and keep the issue simmering in the news. You see, the small flaw in the campaign was that all the protesters had to be imported from New York and Chicago. There were only eight Chinese families in town, and all were refusing to have anything to do with the anti-"Chinks" campaign (not wanting to lose their livelihoods, homes, and be driven out of town by the controversy).

By accident, not in any political way, i had casually met two vaguely liberal young white guys there. One was a teacher in that very high school. The second was a UAW (United Auto Workers union) shop steward at the nearby giant Caterpillar tractor assembly plant, which was Pekin's main industry. So i thought maybe they could be persuaded to get some local people to take a moderate wishy-washy public stand, anything just to give the Chinese families some local community cover if they wanted to speak out (there was zero local support of any kind, including all the unions and churches of course).

When i suggested it to this Maoist group, there was a moment's startled stony silence. Then the leader barked, "We do not work with white people!" Discussion over. So, is this a good example of that error of "racial issues taking precedence over class issues"? i know some radicals might think that, but they'd just be getting faked out.

First off, to those activists running it, "race" was not what was central to their thinking. After all, if those Asian American dudes had really been into either "race" or anti-racism they might have started by organizing and working with the local Asian families. They might have tried to help find some survival strategy for these families, who couldn't just drive off into the sunset after each press conference (being an isolated Asian family in a heavy white racist scene is no joke, obviously). This is just a normal problem in anti-racist work, which folks had to deal with all the time in small towns in 1960s Mississippi, for instance.

It also wasn't true that those Chinese-American leftists "didn't work with white people". They did that all the time, when they wanted, and these Han nationalists even argued for the "revolutionary" nature of the white working class . What i came to realize was in that situation they didn't want any broad community support for the Chinese families there, or to let others into "their" issue. Because they had a really different agenda. Which was to get sole public credit for this and other anti-racist issues, so that their little Maoist "party" could vault into political dominance over the Chinese-American communities. Later, when they thought it necessary, they even used physical violence and death threats to drive other Asian groups away. They intended to be the people in ethnic power, in effect like replacing the tongs . These "paper Maoists" had a pure class agenda, all right, only it was a bourgeois agenda. Although they themselves might have honestly believed what they did was "revolutionary", they had anti -working class politics hidden by "anti racism" and left people of color talk.

And this Maoist group really did get their Andy Warhol-like "15 minutes of fame", becoming large in part because the more dishonest and destructive their "anti-racist" maneuvers became, the more support they got from white middle-class liberals and "progressives" (coincidentally?). i mean, from many white social-democrats, those white anti-repression "experts", academic leftists, etc. Those types that subject us to those endless droning lectures about "the working class" (which they aren't in and don't get, of course). As a sage comrade of mine always says, "Like is drawn to like" even if their outward appearance is very different.

This is a more difficult, easy to slip and fall on, even dangerous way of seeing things than radicals here are used to.

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forgodsgoddamnsake · 9 months ago

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Belly Dancer - 7

Warning: smut oral f/m receiving, language, angst(and fluff don't worry I don't wanna make you sad), mention of bullying, mention of anger issues and so on.

“Tell me a secret.” You said as you sat on the kitchen island in Harry’s white shirt.

He was cooking on the stove with his back to you, wearing a grey t-shirt.

“Hm, let me think about it.” He hummed, turned around to face you. “My father taught me how to use a gun when I was just twelve. Till now, never missed a shot.”

“Nah, that’s old news, tell me something I don’t know.”

“How is that old news?”

“It’s kinda obvious, you know?”

“No, I don’t, explain.” His eyebrows were furrowed.

“A guy at your age in that business, the way you were so confident using guns. That expertise with guns doesn’t come within two years of practice. It means that you’ve been around guns and weapons long enough. You never spoke of your dad at all, like he never existed, which also means that he had a hand in this.” You spoke, confidently.

“And you caught all that when we were firing the other day?” He asked, kind of surprised.

“Yes.”

“You’re bright, y/n.” He smiled. “Tell me a secret about you, too.” He said and you had to think about it as he turned off the stove.

“I got into a fight when I was younger, I kinda hurt the girl bad.”

“Oh, what happened?”

“I guess I had an anger issue. I’m not a person that you can get them angry easily, but once I’m angry, hell’s breaking loose. She was my friend and we were good until she started dressing differently and started ignoring me like we were never friends at all. One day we were in the same group and she made fun of my clothes in front of the whole class.” You bit your lip to hide the smirk. “I didn’t like criticism much, so I grabbed her and in the next second we were fighting and punching each other.”

“Are you happy that you did that?” He asked, noticing your smirk.

“I’d be lying if I said I am not. I am happy that I didn’t let her do that to me, no one is allowed to bully me or treat me like I’m nobody. To be honest, I like intimidating people. Since that fight, nobody at school had ever said anything to me that I didn’t like.” You looked him in the eyes and his smile widened.

Other guys might be intimidated by what you said, but he wasn’t. He appreciated that you were a person that didn’t let people walk all over her. It made him feel like he had a female version of himself.

“I did that at elementary school as well, by the way. I scratched and pulled the hair of the bully in my school. She was a bitch that deserved to be scratched in the face. She told me I had bad hair, that I was ugly every damn day. I tried being a good girl till I just snapped, I couldn’t let her bring me down. Think I might still have this trait. Wouldn’t give it up, though, even it makes me appear like a violent person. People need to stay the fuck away from me if they ever think they can bully me and just walk away, fuck no.” You said, with zero regret.

He walked towards you, put his hands on either side of you on the kitchen island, gave you a big smirk.

“Badass, aren’t you?”

“I am, Gatsby.” You smiled as he gave you a peck on the lips.

“How about I give you another session so you can learn how to use guns properly?”

“I like the idea.”

You both stood in the same field that you stood in a month back with new green bottles on display for you to shoot. The weather was hot so pulling your hair up into a big bun was the best option. Harry was thinking that you might need to let your anger out on something that wouldn’t be hurt. He was damn right, the amount of anger you had was unbearable. The mixed-up feelings you had sometimes wouldn’t even let you concentrate on just one feeling, you were so angry at everything, no fear of anything, but on the other hand, there was this little girl inside you that was in a corner afraid of everything, defeated and so soft she could break.

Without realizing it, Harry was trying to help you and you felt that, but to you it seemed like he was trying to provide things to you, but you provided nothing. What could you give to a guy like Harry who already had everything?

Harry was trying to teach you how to shoot far targets, but you were failing terribly and he’d tease you with this. Until a car pulled over next to yours only for you to watch Michael get out of it with an expression you thought it was anger.

“Harry, minute please?” Michael asked as he looked you up and down. He didn’t like you.

“Okay, Harry I’ll be in the car, I have to call Sam anyways.” You said, excusing yourself. Harry nodded to you and put one of the guns in the wooden box as he said to Michael once they were all alone.

“What was that?”

“Bringing a girl to our field is okay by me, but what the fuck is it with you spending all your time with her? You didn’t show up, not even a call, you’re not answering your phone.” Michael said, trying to maintain his annoyance.

“Are we married or something? I’m having fun, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong, H. But this’s got to stop, we’re fucked, Harry, we’re in a hole, we need to get the deal out of Ray, you hear me?” Michael huffed.

Harry cracked his knuckles and rolled his eyes, “We’ll have to get another deal out of any other person we know.”

“No, H, that’s not possible, we specifically want Russian arms and Ray is the only one that can provide us the supplies in such short notice.”

“I tried, Mike. I called him, he was pissed that I kicked him out of the after-party. I’m not sucking his balls to get this deal, okay?”

“I know he’s a piece of shit, but we have to convince him. Let y/n give him the dance he asked for, women have charm.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Harry spat.

“What else do you have in mind? This happened in the first place because of her.”

“So, the only way to fix this is to give him what he wants? Her?”

“It’s not like she’ll sleep with him, it’s her job, H. Y/N is a dancer, all’s she going to do is dance.”

“I’m not doing that to her, hear me? Not on my watch.” Harry said.

“Fuck you, this bitch is getting you wrapped around her finger, what’s with that? Did she give you a good jerking off or something?”

“The fuck you said?”

“You heard me, Harry. This girl’s not for you, man. We have work to do and all you do is follow her around like a lost puppy.”

Harry took a step towards Michael; their foreheads were touching and their eyes were seeing red. They were whispering in a way of anger.

“Say shit like that one more time, Miky, I fucking dare you.”

“Yeah, sure you do, stuffing your face in her pussy was not enough and now you’re turning your back on your friend.”

“You call yourself a friend, you son of a bitch?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m the one taking all of the responsibility so you can go have fun with your little sluts.”

“Get out of my face before I break yours.” Harry said and pushed Michael away, walked towards the car where you sat. He didn’t speak through the whole drive and he pulled over at your apartment. And that was it for the day.

That same night and after you were done with your job, Michael’s face appeared next to your car.

It had been six months since you knew Harry. Michael would show up almost every night at the club to convince you with the offer. You had many dates with Harry, most of them were just you guys having fun. You made sure not to talk too much about yourself, you thought you already did talk too much.

What happened at the after-party was still lingering in your head because Michael wouldn't stop showing for it, you didn’t want to make Harry lose a deal because of you. You felt heavy at the idea, you were alone for a long time and having a man take care of you was not something you were used to at the time.

You were ready to perform for Ray at his place as Michael asked you.

A part of you wanted to do this to prove to yourself that no one could tell you what to do or save you, that you were good all by yourself, the other part wanted to do it so you get Harry the deal. You had to provide him with something.

Angela was preparing your suit for the private performance in the private room the host had provided for you. Your bodyguard was waiting in the hallway, that was your only condition to accept the offer. You decided to wear a blue suit for the performance; you got into the suit, put on your makeup, were ready to do something you didn’t want so you shake off the feeling of a man protecting you.

You didn’t want someone to protect you.

Every breath you took was heavy like a million stone pressing into your throat. It had been a long time since you did something you did not want.

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, and you saw that you weren’t happy about that whole thing.

Ray was sitting on a black armchair and the song had started as you asked Angela. You got out of the room and were ready for dancing the feeling off.

Angela saw the sadness lingering in your eyes, she’d been your assistant since the beginning so she noticed. Oh, she noticed the face of yours that was completely broken, yet expressionless. There was nothing she could do, she tried talking you out of it, but you only snapped at her. She sighed sadly as she watched you from the slightly open door.

That body suit was not too revealing, you chose one that covered most of you to get a little comfortable. Your waist drew a big circle, then you started dancing your body with no smile visible. Smiling was critical, but you couldn’t afford it so you danced with a poker face on.

However, you found your eyes tearing up, dancing with tears in your eyes, trying your best to not let them fall down your cheeks. The eyes of Ray were eating the sight of you which disgusted you even more. Disgusted by yourself, your body. You didn’t want to do this. Who could save you then?

Meanwhile, Harry was calling you and Angela answered as usual,

“Hello, Mr. Styles. Y/N is busy now.” She started, but he could hear the song playing in the background.

Harry knew that you were off the club that day, you did not tell him that you had any other performance as he was thinking of taking you out.

“Where exactly? I may drive y/n home.” He asked, confused.

She gave him the address and hung up. Angela completely ignored your order to not answer Harry’s calls. Angela felt that she had to step up and not let you do something that made you sad deeply. Michael was checking some guns out of a wooden box at one of Harry’s warehouses, then he looked at Harry to see him confused. Harry didn’t know why he was confused, “What’s wrong, H?” Mike asked inspecting a gun in his hand.

“Y/N is having a private performance she didn’t tell me about.” He looked at Mike, but Mike avoided any eye contact and that was something Harry noticed.

“Maybe she forgot.” Michael mumbled.

That look on Michael’s face is a liar’s look. They had been friends long enough, and Harry knew that he was lying.

“What do you know that I don’t, Michael?” Harry asked, rising from his chair. The warehouse was not lighted well, only a yellow light bulb. That deem light made Harry’s expression look a lot worse.

“Ugh, nothing.”

“You’re lying. What is it?”

“She asked me to give Ray the private performance he asked for, so we could get the deal we had to get which you blew. Satisfied?” Michael huffed looking to Harry.

“You made the girl I’m seeing perform behind my back!?” Harry yelled.

“She asked me not to tell, okay?”

“It is not, Mike, it is not okay.” Harry mumbled, seeing red.

He got out of the warehouse, jogging towards his car, followed by Michael who was calling his name to get him to slow down.

Meanwhile you were changing into your next suit, trying to suck in your tears.

In the garage where you kept your car, you were driving your legs to walk with Angela next to you, holding your bag. Harry’s figure appeared next to your car, leaning on it, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. You glared at Angela so she walked faster to open the trunk of the car.

"You owe me." You said bluntly with a poker face, walking to open your driver’s seat without even looking at him.

"Excuse me? I owe you?" He straightened up and raised his arms in confusion.

"Yes, you do. That shitty performance was for your own sake." You said, throwing your handbag inside violently.

He had to take a step towards you, "You did exactly what I told you not to do!" He yelled in your face.

"Hey! Don't raise your voice at me. I did this for your own sake." You slammed the car door, turning around to face him, raising your pointer at him.

"What sake was that? You think I care about some deal? No, darling, you did this all for your own sake. I won't fall for your shit!" His lips were curled upside down, like he was disgusted.

"Oh, really? Do you think I wanted to perform for that piece of shit? His eyes were practically undressing me every fucking second and I hated every second of it, Harry!" You yelled.

"And that is exactly why I told you not to perform, but you're too stubborn to listen. You had to make yourself appear like some independent girl, look where we are now! Because you're too fucking stubborn to listen to a fucking word I say!" He yelled back right in your face, but you gave him a sarcastic smile.

"So, this is my fault now? You asked me to be at that after-party where that shit asked me to perform!"

"It is your fault-"

"No, it fucking isn't-"

"It fucking is, y/n!"

"Stop yelling at me!"

"You stop yelling at me and listen for a change!"

"You started it!"

"Listen, all I asked was for you to not perform for him, but you fucked up everything I said and did what you wanted anyways. That is pure disrespect."

"Disrespect?!" You exclaimed.

None of you noticed that Angela was still standing by the car trunk, watching both of you yelling at each other.

"Yeah, y/n, disrespect. You went there and wore god knows what to show off your flesh for a guy that only wants to see what's underneath."

"I wore a suit, Harry, I wear them every day for god's sake!"

"You wear them on a stage, in front of an audience, you wear them at parties that you work at, not at somebody's house when he's the only audience." He yelled the last part.

"I did this for you." You whispered, looking to the ground.

"No, you fucking did not! You did this for yourself so you could say to yourself that no man could tell you what to do!"

"No, no, I did not." Your eyes teared a little. And you tried your best to not cry in front of anyone, but this was becoming too much for you to handle.

"Yeah, you did, you completely disrespected me. I cannot even look at you now." He ran his fingers in his hair, looking away.

"What do you wanna hear? That you were right? Yes, Harry, you fucking were right. I hated every second of it, I was literally crying. I did this because I could not bear the idea of someone protecting me!" You yelled the last sentence with your eyes full of tears. "And I wish I listened to you, I wish I could take it back and listen to what you said, but I can't. I can't reverse time and not do it. I only wanted to dance for you but I just couldn't let you protect me. I'm afraid, Harry, okay?" You sighed, a tear rolling on your cheek when he looked at you, his chest rising up and down.

"I'm afraid of every day I will suffer when you leave. I don't want to get used to you; I was fine before you came along. There will be nothing left of me if you break me like everyone else. I just can't give you the knife so you can kill me whenever you feel like it." You broke down and started crying, that was when he grabbed you to his chest to hug you, one arm around your neck.

You muffled through your tears. “I’m just afraid, Harry.”

He deepened the hug and kissed your temple before whispering in your ear, “I’m not leaving, y/n.”

“Yes, you are. Everybody leaves.”

“Not me, baby. Just please, listen to me, I don’t like being disrespected. I don’t want you to interfere with my work whatsoever, it’s no place for you. I know these people; you can’t be around them.” He said gently.

You sobbed a little and he pulled away a little to wipe off your tears with his fingers. He gave a kiss to your forehead and pulled you in his arms again.

“Awww.” Angela says, fingers intertwined. You both chuckled at her till Harry said, “I want you to go home, okay? I have some business to go through, then I’ll catch you there.”

“Okay, don’t be late, I cooked today.”

“Can’t wait to taste.” He said before giving you one last kiss on the forehead and leave.

You got into your car with Angela to drive her home. Angela cleared her throat as you were driving, “I’m sorry, y/n, I gave him the address.”

“It’s okay, Angela, sometimes we need people to step up for us.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No, honey, I’m not. I know that you just wanted to look out for me. I did a stupid thing, I didn’t even wanna do it, but I just did.” You huffed.

“Harry seems nice, he was really worried about you.” She said and you smiled at her words.

Harry pulled over by the warehouse, got out of the car with no expression, didn’t say hello to any of the guards as usual. He went in to find Michael sitting at his chair. Towers of boxes were filled inside the warehouse. Harry walked towards Michael and said without sitting, looking at Michael who raised his head to face Harry, “We’re done, Michael. I’ll have a word with the accountant so you can take all the money you put back, if you want arms instead that’s fine. I don’t want to see your face again.” Then Harry turned around to leave, but Michael’s voice stopped him.

“What? What’s that for? What did she tell you to make you turn against me?” Michael asked as Harry turned around once again.

“She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even mention your name. She took full responsibility of what she did, but I know better, Michael. I know you too much, I know that none of what you said was true.” Harry said lowly, yet angrily. “I know that she didn’t tell you not to tell me, I know that you must have convinced her to do that behind my back. Since that after-party she never not even for once mentioned that offer, and you wouldn’t shut up about it. You’re cunning, Michael, I’ll give you that.”

“And that’s why you’re leaving me behind? Harry, I’m your friend.”

“What kind of a friend are you, man? You know what? It’s not even about her at all, it’s about you going behind my back. You speak ill of the girl I like all the time; I suck it in and just give you the benefit of the doubt. But, no, Michael, not anymore.”

“We needed that deal, Harry, I had to do it.” Michael stood up.

“You got your deal. But you don’t have me anymore, we’re done.” Harry said and just left, leaving Michael back cursing himself.

Their friendship was perfect, they’d fuck girls, drink, do business, have each other’s back. No matter how much they fought, nothing led them to that point of no return. But Michael’s friendship was over to Harry, not because of you. If a friend could deceive another friend, then how could they trust one another?

Harry’s car was pulled over at your apartment, he rang the bell and you opened the door. You were in one of your cute pajamas, but once you opened the door and saw Harry’s face you had to open your arms for him. He went in your arms and hugged you tightly. He dug his face in the crook of your neck, trying to hold back his tears. You wrapped him tightly in your arms and rubbed his back gently, reassuring him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Harry.” You whispered in his ear and just stayed there for a while, the front door still open, in each other’s arms until Harry was moving his head and saw Jessica standing by her bedroom door, looking at you both.

“It’s been 5 minutes, aren’t you bored?” She commented and you had to chuckle. You both pulled away but kept his hand in yours.

“I didn’t know you were here; I wouldn’t have come.” He said, smirking at her.

“Y/N is a bad influence, isn’t she?” She said as she took a seat on the barstool.

Jessica was a redhead with lots of piercings and tattoos, she was taller than you and more muscular.

“Come on in, Gatsby, I’m making late dinner.” You said and led him in as you closed the front door behind him.

You let go of his hand and went right to the fridge to take out the food you had half-cooked earlier. You put the plates of the food on the island and jogged to your room and returned with a hairclip, you pulled your hair up with the hairclip. Then, you went to the fridge again to pour them both some juice.

“Wanna know the story behind the hairclip?” Jessica asked Harry with a big smirk on her face.

“Aren’t you a bitch?!” You exclaimed turning on the oven and put two pots on.

“Tell me.” Harry said as he sipped from his cup.

“Y/N was trying to cook me some food, what was the name of that dish, y/n?”

“It was an eastern dish, it consists of pasta, rice, fried onions, and lentil. It’s a hard dish to make.” You answered, going on with your cooking.

“Yeah, and she was going on with cooking till we smelled something burning, turns out she left her too long hair going around with her like a fucking Rapunzel.” Jessica said through her laughs and Harry’s eyes widened at you.

“My god, your hair burnt!?” He asked, looking at you.

“Just the tips I swear!” You said raising your middle finger at her. “I’ll get you, bitch.”

“Since that day she never turns on the stove without tying her hair up.”

“How did you guys meet?” Harry asked. You turned your head and looked at her, “Wanna tell him?”

She smiled at you, “We had a fight at one of the clubs. We were auditioning I looked her up and down, she looked like pick-me girl.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t. I minded my own business till you made that little comment of yours!”

“Tell me!” Harry laughed, “I’d like to know the whole story.”

“Okay, okay, y/n was flicking her hair all the time like she was the only girl on earth or something. She looked different; you know? I told her that there was some gum stuck in her hair.” Harry burst into laughing as you and Jessica laughed along yet she continued, “She got all riled up and kept looking for that gum till she missed the audition.”

“Oh my god, then what?” He asked through his laughs.

“She waited for me outside and was determined to pull my hair off.”

“Sounds like y/n.”

“Then when we were fighting, some guy held me in an inappropriate way, she yelled at him ‘Don’t touch her, pig’” Jessica laughed as she imitated you. “She kicked him in the nuts for me. Then we sat on the sidewalk, talking and became friends since then.”

“I’d never change a thing about it, Jess. I love you.” You said and then turned around and walked to the kitchen island facing both of them.

“Jessica had my back when everybody turned their backs on me. She lent me money, got me the job at the club, got me to stay with her when I had nowhere else to go.”

“We sound so gay.” She said and you both laughed and high-fived each other.

Harry looked at both of you and felt sad a little when he remembered Michael.

“Where’s the food, y/n? I gotta go soon.” She said and you turned to the stove again to finish your cooking.

“Okay, Jess, put the food in the plates, I gotta go to the bathroom.” You said and walked to the bathroom. Jessica nodded at you and stood to turn off the stove.

“You like her, just Harry?” She asked Harry, taking him off his thoughts.

“Yeah, I do, very much actually.”

“Y/N is a good girl, she has her bad moments, but she’s a really good friend. I have to tell you something really quick before she comes back, though I think she’ll be late. She takes her phone with her to scroll on.” She smirked and he chuckled. “Y/N may act tough, she’s tough but she needs someone to protect her from herself. She told me that a while back when she was drunk at yours she had a bad dream. That happens a lot, her family messed her up, she has zero contact with any of them, she’s only got me and now you. She doesn’t let people into her life that much so I need you to promise me that if you ever feel like you don’t want to be with her, just tell her the truth.”

“I want to be with her-“

“I’m just saying, I don’t wanna see my best friend like that. Just please, promise me that if you wanna let her go, let her go slowly. Don’t break her heart anymore than it already is. I love that bitch, she’s a person you can always lean on. She told me all about that fucker from her country, she loved him, listened to him, got him gifts, told him all words of affirmation, and he threw her like trash. I can’t let that happen before my eyes.”

“I promise I really want her, I have no intention of breaking her heart. She’s-“ He got cut off by your voice, “Who’re you two talking about?”

“No one, I was just telling him about the time when you were two and ran naked around the house.” Jessica said as she filled the plates with food.

“What’s that?” Harry asked pointing at his plate.

“Shut up and eat.” You said getting yourselves forks and spoons.

You started eating but soon Jessica got a phone call.

“I have to go, y/n.” She said, stuffing her mouth with food.

“Tell your boyfriend to fuck himself for me, please.” You said and she raised her middle finger and grabbed her purse and went to open the front door as she turned around.

“I don’t want you both doing stupid shit, as long as you’re under my roof, you live by my rules. Bye.” She said as she went out and closed the door behind her. You chuckled and looked over to Harry who was next to you, didn’t touch his food.

“Is there something bothering you, or you just don’t like my food?” You asked before putting the full spoon into your mouth.

“I had a talk with Mike.” He said lowly, playing with his food.

“What kind of a talk?”

“I ended our friendship.”

“What?” You let go of your spoon, giving him your full attention.

“I had to.”

“No, Harry, there’s nothing that could end that friendship of yours.”

“He made you perform for Ray, y/n!”

“He didn’t make me do shit, I agreed, this is my decision. You didn’t punish me for it, why punish him?”

“Because he knows better than to do such thing behind my back.”

“Michael loves you, Harry. He wanted to save your business with this deal, I told him not to tell you, I told him to stay out of it. He cares for you, baby, he didn’t want to do things behind your back. He made a mistake just like me, don’t punish him too hard.”

“He knows better, y/n.” He said with sadness all over his voice.

“Harry, you’re punishing him and you. Think of all the times he had your back, he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“You damn should, he loves you like a brother.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

Harry sighed and grabbed the spoon to his mouth and his eyes widened, “What is that? It’s so good.”

“It’s a secret.” You winked.

You both laid on your bed, Harry’s head on your lap as you played with his hair, you were reading a book and he was scrolling on his phone. You huffed and snatched the phone from his hand.

“Hey! What’s that for?”

“I want you to take my virginity.” You said with straight face.

“What?” He straightened up to face you.

“You heard me.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you wanna give it up before marriage?”

“I think it’s time for me to let it go.”

“Why me, then?”

You brushed his hair with your fingers, “Because I like you, Harry. You mean so much to me now. You’re nice, gentle, and you take care of me. You treat me so good like I’m the only girl on earth. I want to give something so precious to a guy that’s become so precious to me.”

He smiled and cupped your face, “I can’t, I can’t take something that important from you.”

“I want you to, Harry. I didn’t wanna give it up to some guy that would leave me the next day. Ugh, I don’t know what’ll happen between us, and maybe it’s too soon. But before we do anything, I have to ask. Are we actually dating or what? We’ve never talked about it; we’ve been going out for about five months now.”

He thought about it for a moment, you had been going on dates for quite a while, but you never talked about where you were standing.

“I think we’ve went on dates more than a dozen times, so I think yeah, we are dating, y/n.” He answered, truthfully.

“Do you wanna?” You winked and he sighed.

“I can’t, I want you to have it the special way you deserve. You deserve to give it in the most special way possible.” He said as he caressed your cheek softly. “But I really need you to give me a blowjob before little Harry explode.” He grinned and you burst into laughing.

You cupped his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss, the kiss was emotional and so sweet. He got his tongue into your mouth and you followed. He bit your bottom lip a little and got you right under him as he was caressing your hips and waist.

He pulled away from the kiss only to lick on your neck. He kissed and licked your sweet spot as your moans got louder by the touch. He was right between your legs so you felt him getting harder above you. You craved touching him so your hands crawled under his t-shirt to strip him. Once he took of his shirt, he unbuttoned your pajama blouse to see you in a beautiful lace grey bra.

“I love every little detail of you, y/n.” He whispered as he walked the tip of his finger on the stretch marks on your breasts.

You hummed and cupped his dick through his jeans and you got a moan out of him. He took your bra off and threw it somewhere.

“I like you better this way.” He grinned and squeezed both breasts in his hands and put one nipple into his mouth to lick. Gave the same attention to the other nipple and they got harder and he felt an urge to twist them a little. He did and you gasped.

You felt shy dirty-talking so you stuck to the moaning. His hands were caressing your whole body as he was kissing his way down to the hem of your pants. He looked into your eyes and took off your pants and played with your pussy with his finger so slowly it killed you.

“Stop teasing me!” You whined.

“You do that all the time, now’s my turn.” He said on your pussy.

He grabbed the hem of your panties in between his teeth and took it off completely with your help, of course. He spread your legs and dove right in, licking on your clit gently as his hands crawled up to your breasts to squeeze them. You arched your back as you felt his tongue enter you slowly, your hands were deep in his hair tugging at it.

He twisted your nipples between his fingers as his tongue was moving from fucking you to drawing circles on your clit.

“You like that, princess?” He whispered and you couldn’t hear him clearly so he got no answer from you, only moans.

He pulled his tongue away and looked into your eyes and twisted your nipples just a little harder and you gasped.

“I said, you like that?” He repeated and you nodded. “Words, princess.”

“Yes, Harry, yes, I love it, please. Give me your tongue again, I’m so close, plea-“ You ended your sentence with a loud moan as he grabbed your clit between his lips to kiss and lick.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum, I’m go-“ You were interrupted by the hard orgasm that hit you. You tugged on his hair harder and arched your back so hard. You pushed him a little from you as you were cumming and it made him smirk as he was watching your body shake under his touch.

“Fuck, that was so sexy.” His smirk grew wider as you pulled him up to kiss him deeply, violently.

You turned him over so you could be on top, You felt bold.

“I want you to cum in my mouth.” You whispered in his ear before kissing his neck. “Can I give you a love bite?” You asked and he only chuckled.

“You can do whatever you want, Rapunzel. I’m all yours.”

God, those nicknames did you good.

You gave him a couple of love-bites on his neck and near his shoulder-blade, you loved that he was not a silent guy in bed. Harry gave you all the moans you needed to figure that he was enjoying your touches. You kissed his neck one last time before using your two central teeth and tongue to make your way down on his body.

“Fuck, that’s new.” He moaned before helping him take his pants and boxers off, then he collected your hair with his two hands and had it in one fist.

You winked at him, “Not gonna tease you this time.”

“You better not to or I swea-Oh fuck!” He was interrupted as you put him in your mouth to stop him from talking. You felt his pre-cum on your tongue as you tried taking more of him without gagging. You put as much as you could down your throat until you gagged, kept him in there a little.

“Fuck, yes, you’re so good to me, princess.” He moaned pulling on your hair a little harder. Pulling your hair only made him harder.

You pushed him in and out of your mouth a little and got it out completely with a pop. He was trying to keep his eyes on you to appreciate the sight of you taking him in. You started licking his cock from the side as you were jerking him off with one hand. The other hand was gently massaging his balls.

You moaned while he was in your mouth and that sent him over the edge.

“Princess, I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop, don’t, don’t.” His moans were getting louder as you began pushing him in and out faster.

You felt his cum fill your mouth, but you didn’t stop until he was finished. You pulled him out of your mouth with his cum on your tongue. You looked at him, still in between his legs by his cock, you opened your mouth so he could see his cum on your tongue. He grabbed your bottom lip and bit his own.

“I wish I could take a picture; fuck you look incredibly sexy.” He groaned and you nodded. “What? Want me to take a picture?” He asked and you nodded again.

“Are you sure?” Again, he asked and you nodded.

He pulled your phone that was on the nightstand and you pressed your finger on it so it would unlock. He turned on the camera and took a picture.

He put the phone down.

“Swallow.” He ordered.

And you swallowed.

The picture was you, your eyes not in the scene. Your mouth open, cum all over your tongue, Harry’s finger pulling down your bottom lip, a strand of your hair was in sight.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #love #couples #harry x reader #smut #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry x y/n #harry edward styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

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pluckyredhead · 2 years ago

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Since we are FINALLY getting a new Green Arrow comic next week, I wanted to talk about my favorite GA story in a very long time: “Earn It Back” by Dave Wielgosz and Mike Norton, which was part of last year’s DC’s Saved By the Belle Reve anthology. I picked up this comic because the solicit mentioned Super Sons and Gotham Academy stories, but the solicit, cover, and variant cover gave zero indication that there would be any GA content at all, let alone maybe the best Ollie + baby Roy story...ever??? (Side note: this is why I am Comics Georg. If you read EVERYTHING, you will eventually find treasure.)

The story takes place “years ago,” when Roy is in 8th grade. (For non-Americans, that means 13 or 14, depending on when exactly in the year it is. Roy’s birthday is in November so he’s probably 14 here.)

It starts with Ollie being called in to Roy’s school to speak to the vice principal, and oh man, Ollie is a disaster here:

There is so much to love already:

1. Mike Norton’s art! I always enjoy his work so much. Take it as given that for every page I am loving the art, so I won’t keep saying it. (Also this is a tiny detail but colorist Steve Wands picked just the perfect shade of green for Ollie’s shirt.)

2. “He’s not an idiot.” Already Ollie is in a defensive panic and absolutely flailing. It’s worth noting that Ollie has always and will always be someone who says the very first thought that comes to mind, and this is before he lost all his money and grew a social conscience so he is using thoughtless, offense language. But also, as will be made explicit by the end of the story, Ollie is not someone who did well academically. When Ollie uses the word “idiot,” he means himself. Roy himself once said Ollie is both proud and ashamed that Roy is so much like him and the fact that Roy phrased it that way makes my heart hurt, but it’s probably more accurate to say: Ollie recognizes that Roy is very like him and it worries him because he is intimately familiar with his own faults.

3. This story sits pretty completely within pre-Flashpoint continuity and characterization - it doesn’t match Roy’s New 52 or Rebirth backstories at all. And as a pre-Flashpoint fan, I do love that. But one thing that emerges from the mess of contradictory versions of Roy’s backstory in the New 52 is that it’s really easy to headcanon that version of him - eternally bored in school, miles ahead of the class and unable to sit still, eventually seeking solace in acting out and substance abuse - as neurodivergent, potentially ADHD. And this story also hints at those tendencies, which there is zero indication of in pre-Flashpoint. I just think it does a great job gracefully combining multiple characterizations of Roy so that no one’s is “wrong.”

Ollie: “Hey Barry. you’re a fucking nerd, right?” Barry: “...Yes. 😔”

ANYWAY LOOK HOW MUCH OLLIE LOVES ROY!!! HE THINKS ROY IS AMAZING!!

My single solitary issue with this story is that it posits that Bruce is someone it would be logical to turn to for parenting advice, but I guess this early on, before Dick started butting heads with him - let alone before Jason showed up - both Bruce and Ollie could be dumb enough to think he was.

I will never get over how cute Roy’s little face is when he’s talking about shooting Wally. I kiss him! I pinch his cheeks!

Weeks go by. Roy’s grades improve, but he’s miserable:

Truly Mike Norton is just drawing my headcanons at this point. Yes, that is what Ollie’s house looks like. Yes, that is how he dresses. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Look how mad the Titans are! Look at Garth stomping off! This is so cute, I’m dying.

Again, BRUCE IS NOT A MODEL PARENT. He’s so condescending here, too. AT LEAST OLLIE'S KIDS ALL MAKE IT OUT OF ADOLESCENCE ALIVE, BRUCE.

(The Dinah cameo is interesting, since she and Ollie don’t interact. It makes this story tricky to place in any prior continuity, since pre-Crisis she didn’t join the League until after Ollie had already grown his beard. I guess this could be the post-Crisis continuity established by JLA: Year One, because Ollie is clean-shaven in that book, which has the pleasing implication that she is a veteran founding member here and Bruce and Ollie are rookies.)

Anyway, it’s the VP calling to let Ollie know that Roy has been cutting school:

BABY IS ANGRY. Baby also has impeccable aim (of course), because oh man, telling Ollie he’s a tyrant and a fake and flaky is one THOUSAND percent hitting him where it hurts. “You gave up on me” oh BOY the abandonment issues started early.

Other things I love: how incredibly daddish Ollie sounds in the “Keep going, Roy” line. Also, “Being his friend didn’t work.” DAVE WIELGOSZ IS ALSO JUST WRITING MY HEADCANONS!!! I have said for literally decades at this point that Ollie’s early parenting style was permissive to a fault because Roy is his buddy! His pal! His little fella!

Like I said at the beginning, Ollie’s panicked “He’s not an idiot!” was not about Roy, it was about Ollie. He doesn’t want to see Roy make the same mistakes he did. (He should probably have told Roy about contraceptives then, but...) (Actually he did tell Roy not to get Donna pregnant in Teen Titans: Year One, but probably he should have been clearer about the means.)

Panel three makes me want to sob. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MU-HU-HUCH. (Ollie and Roy, I mean. Not Ollie and Vice Principal Parks.)

P.S. The posters on Roy’s wall! What a nerd!

😭😭😭

This is such a complicated little emotional beat and I love it. Roy has been so angry at Ollie but his immediate uncomfortable forgiveness and the way Ollie recognizes it for what it is is so good. (Also of course Robert went along with it, Robert Queen was trash.)

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER! OLLIE THINKS ROY IS THE GREATEST PERSON ALIVE! ROY SHOWS HIS FORGIVENESS BY ROASTING HIS OLD MAN!

(We don’t need to discuss the part where I’m pretty sure Roy never finished high school. It’s a happy ending for now, okay?)

Anyway, I love this story very very much and just wanted to gush about it. if the new GA book is anywhere close to this high quality, I will be very happy indeed.

#green arrow #oliver queen #roy harper #speedy

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rhondafromhr · 7 months ago

Text

Another Max and Steph roleswap au snippet, it’s slowly but surely coming together :)

(Part 1 for anyone who hasn’t read it)

He leans over and squints to see Richie’s work, but doesn’t get very far before he hears someone yell, “Cheaters!” and jumps slightly. He glances behind him to see Grace Chasity scowling at him and shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Oh, hey, Grace,” he says, flashing what he hopes is a charming grin “this isn’t what it looks like.”

“First you try to cheat on the test and now you’re lying about it? See, it’s a slippery slope. This is for your own good,” she replies, raising her voice to yell, “Miss Mulberry, they’re cheating!”

Miss Mulberry gives them a severe look that’s more directed at Max than Richie, but still sends them both to the principal’s office. As they’re waiting outside, Richie hunches over slightly and crosses his arms, scratching at them.

“What, have you never been in trouble before?” says Max “it’s gonna be like two hours detention, tops.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Richie snaps back “you’re the mayor’s son! For some of us lowly peasants, academic misconduct has actual consequences.”

He’s called in and emerges a few minutes later, still not looking too pleased, but substantially less tense.

“You were right,” he grumbles, “two hours’ detention. I guess it’s not the end of the world.”

Max heads in next and principal Blim beckons him to take a seat.

“Hi, Max, long time no see,” he says “if only we could have kept it that way. You know, there’s help available if you were struggling with the material. Why didn’t you seek it out instead of resorting to cheating?”

Because everyone else seems to get it to varying degrees and he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t. Because he’s so lost that he doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know - he wouldn’t know what questions to ask and he can’t pinpoint where he’s struggling when every concept in that class is incomprehensible to him. Because Steph never asks for help with school stuff and he shouldn’t need it, either. He should be able to figure it out like a proper Lauter.

“Desperate times?” he says with a shrug and an impish smile. Principal Blim’s expression remains stern.

“This is no laughing matter,” he says “per school policy, academic misconduct on any test is an automatic zero, which brings your grade down to an F and officially puts you on academic probation. If you can’t bring your grades up within the next couple weeks, you’ll be sitting out the rest of the volleyball season and you can forget about lacrosse. Beyond that, if you can’t turn things around by the end of the semester, we might need to start thinking about having you repeat your senior year.”

“You mean, uh, getting held back?” He can hear his heart pounding in his ears. His muscles tense and he starts to feel dizzy. He tries to take slow, even breaths without being too obvious about it.

“Well, we don’t really like to use that terminology anymore, but essentially, yes,” principal Blim replies.

Next time someone refers to him as a Lauter, he’ll be sure to correct them. He doesn't deserve to be called one. Solomon basically saved him and all he asks in return is that Max stay out of trouble and not flunk out of school and he couldn’t even manage that. He tries so hard to make him proud, but all he’s done is embarrass and burden him.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get them up,” he says, although he has no idea how he’s going to swing it in such a short time “so, do I have detention or…?” He knows the answer.

“I spoke to your father and we agreed this is punishment enough,” principal Blim replies. Oh, God, he’s not looking forward to that conversation. For once, he actually hopes Solomon is too busy with politics to make an appearance at home. With his luck, today will be the one day he bothers.

“Okay,” he says. Principal Blim dismisses him and Richie’s still waiting just outside, flipping through some kind of comic book.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks.

Richie glances up from his reading. “Well, there’s no point in going back to class now, I’m getting a zero on that quiz regardless.”

Max smiles sheepishly again. “Sorry,” he says.

“Well, whatever, I agreed to it,” Richie says with a sigh “at worst it’ll knock my grade down to an A minus. Honestly, I’m more worried about the attention this is going to attract.”

“You don’t want to attract attention?”

“Uh, no,” Richie says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “I want to be invisible. It’s the only way to survive this hellscape. You wouldn’t get it. You have mayor’s kid privilege and cool kid privilege.”

“Well, if you wanna be invisible, why do you wear a Hawaiian shirt and a vest to school everyday?”

“Hey, the layers are an essential part of the whole equation,” Richie replies indignantly “I can kind of, I don’t know, disappear into them? Besides that, it’s a comfort thing. Like a weighted blanket. Or a hug.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. I’m not much of a hugger, though.” It’s technically not a lie, although it’s more for a lack of opportunity than anything else. He’s not super close with the guys from either of his teams and their physical contact is mostly limited to high fives and chest bumps and maybe the occasional bro hug after a really good game. Solomon’s never hugged him, but sometimes he’ll briefly put an arm around his shoulders or affectionately ruffle his hair when they’re out in public and he thinks there might be reporters around. If he’s lucky, he’ll get a reluctant hug from Steph, but only if they’re making a public appearance and Solomon forces her. She’s initiated exactly one willingly and he still treasures the memory. Sophomore year, on his mom’s birthday, she busted into the boy’s bathroom in search of any geeks who might be hiding in the stalls and instead found him in there all alone, hunched over the sink, sniffling pathetically as he tried and failed to make the tears stop flowing and splashing warm water on his face so that it wouldn’t be too obviously red and puffy. She rolled her eyes and told him to cut it out before anyone saw him being such a little bitch, but still wrapped her arms around him more tenderly than many people would think her capable. “It sucks, I know,” she’d said. To this day, she refuses to acknowledge that it ever happened.

“Whatcha reading?” Max asks.

“Oh, uh, Haikyuu. It’s a sports manga about a high school volleyball team.”

“Oh, that’s sick,” he says, flashing that bright, sincere smile once more “maybe I’ll read it sometime! Steph always says that stuff is for weebs and losers, but she didn’t tell me they made sports manga. And about volleyball? That’s my thing!” He thinks it’s kind of cool that somebody out there is invested enough in high school volleyball to make a series about it and, presumably, at least a handful of people are invested enough to read it. See, people do care about it.

“Yeah, it’s really good. I actually almost tried out for the team because of it, but nerds aren’t allowed to go out for sports.”

Max frowns. “Aw, bummer! I guess it’s too late to join now, but if you want to play sometime, maybe we could get a game going with some of the guys from the team. Just for fun. If you want to.”

Richie shakes his head. The hopeful look Max is giving him almost makes him feel sorry for the guy, cool kid privilege aside. “I don’t think so. Look, it was fun getting busted for academic misconduct together, but we really can’t be hanging out. She won’t like that.”

“You mean my sister? She can’t tell us what to do,” Max replies.

“What are you, new here? Yes, she can. If you think a loser like me can go against her of all people, you’re willfully naive. In fact, I need to get out of here before she sees me talking to you. She’s creamed nerds for less.” As if on cue, the bell rings and he takes off running.

Peter leans up against the wall and tentatively peeks around the corner to make sure the coast is clear before stepping into the hallway. Just when he thinks he’s going to make it to class unscathed, somebody yells,

“Hey, Micro-Peter!” His lips contort into scowl. Not this again. It’s been years, when will people finally drop it?

“For the last time, it’s not a micropenis! It’s grown since then!” He retorts. He turns to see who said it and his heart drops. It’s the absolute last person he should be talking back to if he wants to survive his senior year. Her two lackeys stand on either side of her, arms crossed. Kyle has a wicked grin on his face. Jason’s attempting one, but he’s not very good at it and it looks more like he’s smiling awkwardly to have his school picture taken than anything else.

“What? It’s a compliment,” Steph says with a sneer “you’re, like, famous around here.” She looks over to Kyle and Jason, her lips curling into a diabolical smile. “What do you say, boys? Should we give him special treatment because of his celebrity status and let him off the hook for this hallway infraction?”

“Ha! Yeah,” says Jason.

She looks at him incredulously. “No, obviously! It was a rhetorical question, genius. He’s getting a kick-it ticket! Kyle, restrain the perp.” Kyle eagerly runs over to him and grabs him by the shoulders as Stephanie winds up her foot and kicks him straight in the crotch. Kyle lets go and he collapses in a heap on the highly unsanitary hallway floor as the pain radiates through his body.

“Jesus,” he hisses, struggling to pick himself back up. He eventually succeeds and staggers away, still slightly hunched over in pain.

“Ha, fuck outta here, Jackoffski!” Kyle says. He nudges Jason in the ribs and he joins in the laughter, too.

“Jackoffski. That’s good,” Steph says with a chuckle, raising her hand to give Kyle a high five. Her mood sours when she sees her brother approaching. Technically, it’s not a hallway infraction - he’s not a nerd, so he’s within his rights to be here, but how many times has she told him to stay out of her way at school?

“Oh, hey, sis,” he says with the usual dumb, goofy grin on his face “Kyle, Jason.” He greets them a bit more nervously. He can never be sure when they’re going to start in on him at Stephanie’s behest.

“Hey, dipshit,” she replies and his face instantly falls. Good. It’s only fair. Solomon referred to her as his idiot daughter for the millionth time this morning, but made no mention of his arguably even less intelligent idiot son. It’s up to her to remind him. “Heard you got busted for academic misconduct. You know what dad always says, if you’re going to cheat, do it like a Lauter and don’t get caught. What, couldn’t even pass a little five question quiz by yourself?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Kyle says with a sneer, then turns to Steph “I was there, he cheated off the gross, sweaty anime kid.”

“Ugh, ew!” Steph says, face contorting into an expression of pure disgust “you actually talked to him?”

“What’s the big deal? You cheat off geeks all the time,” Max points out.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, a step down from a geek.”

“Yeah,” Kyle chimes in “he’s so gross!”

He and Steph both look at Jason expectantly for a moment before he picks up on it.

“Yeah,” he says, drawing out the word “he, uh, he smells like an open asshole!”

Steph directs her look of disgust to him now. “Ew,” she says again “that’s nasty.” Jason frowns.

Right at that moment, the sound of a familiar voice draws closer, chanting, “Hey, ho! Heck no! Co-ed dances gotta go!” Grace marches towards them, holding the “Homec*mming” sign she’s been proudly brandishing every passing period since the first day of school up high.

“Hey, look, it’s chastity belt,” Jason says, seizing the opportunity to get Steph’s attention off of him.

“Yeah, speaking of gross nerds,” Kyle adds.

“Oh, you think she’s gross, do you?” Steph asks. Max can’t help but smirk. He has a feeling he knows what’s coming. “Do elaborate.”

“She’s, uh, she’s such a nerdy prude! A total two-bagger!” Kyle says.

“Ha. Funny,” Steph says flatly. Without warning, she winds up her fist and hits him square in the nose, knocking him off balance. Jason hastily catches him. He groans and blinks up at her.

“I don’t think she’s a two-bagger, whatever that means,” says Max “she’s kinda cute.”

Stephanie’s jaw tenses. Apparently, he hasn’t taken enough from her. Now he’s thinking of going after the girl she likes? She’d better get that idea out of his head and remind him who’s in charge here. She socks him in the face, too and he staggers backwards. Jason catches him and looks down at him and Kyle with concern, struggling to hold them both up. Max brings up a hand to rub the fresh red mark on his cheek, a stupid sad, betrayed, wounded puppy look in his eyes.

“What are you still doing here?” she asks Jason exasperatedly “make like Spankoffski during the MEAP and beat it. And take those two with you. I want to be alone with Gracie.”

Jason turns and begins to walk away, one arm slung around Kyle and the other around Max, both of whom are still a little dazed. He strains under their combined weight and just barely manages to turn the corner before Grace arrives.

“Wait! We’re trying to get the dance canceled! Tell your teammates!” Grace calls after them.

“Hey, Grace,” Steph greets her. How anyone could think Grace is a two-bagger is beyond her. She’s so damn cute with that neat little pink bow around her neck and those stupid butterfly clips placed perfectly in her hair. There’s always been something intriguing about the stark contrast between the whole pastel church girl aesthetic and the burning intensity in her eyes when she’s crusading for one of her causes. “I like your sign. Homecumming. You’re funny.”

“Well, that’s what they might as well call it. Dress it up however you want, it’s still just an excuse for kids to dry hump in the gym.”

“Amen,” says Steph “you stoked or what?” She knows that Grace is not, in fact, stoked about it and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t excited for the scolding she’s sure to receive. Grace doesn’t disappoint.

“No, Stephanie,” she says, harshly emphasizing each syllable in her name “I am not ‘stoked’ to slip on a pile of wayward spunk while running laps in that gym. And unless you’re stoked to roast on a spit in hell, I wouldn’t say ‘amen’ in such a blasphemous context.”

“Sorry, Grace, I didn’t mean to offend,” says Steph with a smirk “just a little joke.”

Grace scowls. “Hmph. Very funny,” she says.

“You know, it’s no wonder you’re so high-strung, Chas-ti-ty. These levels of repression are deeply unhealthy. I mean, we’re eighteen, isn’t it totally normal to want to dry hump in the gym?”

“Exactly,” Grace fires back “we’re only eighteen. Neither of us should be thinking of such vulgar things, not until we’re safely married!”

“C’mon, you don’t ever think about letting loose and giving into your basest urges? Deep down, you’re a dirty girl, I just know it.”

“Don’t call me that!” Grace says, appalled at the audacity “look, are you going to sign the petition or not? I have to get to class.”

“Sorry, dirty girl, I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Steph says with a sultry smile. Grace quietly sucks a breath in through her teeth.

“I could sign it,” Steph continues “I could force everyone in school to sign it. I could decide homecoming’s for nerds so that even if the dance doesn’t get canceled, nobody wants to go and your gym floor remains free of wayward spunk. All I ask is one little date in return.”

“Absolutely not,” says Grace indignantly.

“Okay, let me carry your books, final offer,” Steph replies.

“Carry my books?” Grace sputters, willfully ignoring the way her face flushes “that’s even worse! That’s wrong. That’s so, so wrong! You know what? Forget it. I don’t need help from the likes of you.” With that, she storms off. Steph continues to smirk as she watches her go.

#nerdy prudes must die #npmd #max jagerman #stephanie lauter #grace chasity #richie lipschitz #Pete makes an appearance but not enough to tag him #lautity #stephgrace #max and Steph roleswap au #hatchetfield fanfic

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